The Great Mouse Detective 2
by Moon Witch '96
Summary: Eight long years have passed since that faithful first case, and that little girl who Basil saved is all grown up now. She comes to Baker street again, hoping to help Basil, to fulfill her dream. Basil himself finds her to be something he never expected... To bad for both of them, because a sinister figure will stop at nothing to see them both destroyed. Please Read and Review!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

A large, hulking figure in the older swearers of London took a harsh, labored breath as he curled up, some what pathetically in the swearer water, not even caring that his battered from was surrounded by filth. Nothing really mattered to the figure, it once flawless form was now a hulking, massive mess of disfigurement, and he had been simply lucky to be alive. And it filled him with a seething rage at the thought of the person that had caused this, that had rendered his once beautiful form into **_this_**. What never failed to anger him, yet somewhat sadden him, if only the tiniest bit, was that he was alone. How could he, of all people want company? Was it maybe because of his disfigurement? He, after all in the past had never wanted company. His intelligence had always put a bit of distance between himself and his peers, even when he hadn't been evil. Of course, he thought with a slight snarl and growl, Basil had been the only person in his life that had cared for him. After he left his beloved college, he had went to his old friend, asking for him to join him in his newly enlighten path, his path of discovering that he was simply fit to rule over all mousedom. The bastard had vowed then and there to never to rest until he saw him behind bars. Well, that or dead. Since at the moment he was neither, though he felt that he was at least half dead, he simply mocked Basil from the swearers. With a jolt, he figured that he had waited enough. Eight long years had passed, and now that stupid twit of a mouse would never expect to see him now. With thousands of ache and pains, the figure stood, his left leg a little stiff, and his right leg of wood echoing dully in the pungent waters of the swearers. His mouth pulled into a broken sneer, his yellow eyes widen slightly with madness. A rusty, small chuckle escaped him, slightly broken, but there non the less. His voice floated out, the only thing that was not broken of him, still as smooth as ever, and still perfect;

"Basil, Old boy... Be prepared..."

**~()~ **

Elsewhere, away in far off Scotland, a small mouse tugged absently on her long hair, placing her freshly sealed letter in the hand of the over night express Carrier mouse.

"Where to miss?" asked the mouse, the letter still in his hand as he made small talk.

"London... I want to give some sort of warning that I'm coming..." responded the mouse, a small and girlish giggle escaping her as she imagined the face of the man that would receive the letter.

"Going there all by ye self?" asked the mouse, his Scottish lit escaping in his worry at the young girl in front of him, not seeing a soul around her.

He just knew that from here she was going to go to the train station, and as a father himself he couldn't help but feel panic at the thought of this young girl traveling alone. To his surprise, her deep blue eyes glared at him, and he found himself comparing them to Loch Ness, because he felt them to be just as dark as the waters, and just as deep. He was also startled to see that her eyes were incredible old for a mouse of sixteen or so.

"I can take care of myself, sir. Do not worry yourself..." she responded, anger leaking into her tone as she turned sharply around, her long blue skirt blowing out dramatically as she started to walk away.

The Carrier mouse felt regret pour into him, put he still felt worry enter him. With a quick glance at the letter, and he hoped that this Basil of Baker street was worth the trip to London for the girl. With a sigh, he went off to deliver the letter to the train that would take it to London post haste.


	2. The Mysterious Letter

**Chapter One; The Mysterious Letter**

Basil of Baker street took a deep breath, lifting his thin and spindly fingers to stroke his chin in thought. With something close to a sigh, he shifted in his large red velvet chair, trying to get even the slightest more comfortable in the overly plush armchair, which was always his favorite, though at the moment he wanted to stand up and beat the chair into oblivion. His fingers inched slightly in need, to take up his violin and stroke up a few of those sweet notes to help his thinking. But, he knew this was not allowed, so instead he hummed under his breath, still stroking his chin, in some chance that the ministrations would make him think better. His emerald eyes never strayed from what was in front of him. After another moment of stroking, his eyes widen for the briefest second, before he chuckled.

With triumph dancing in his expressive eyes, Basil let his eyes leave the board for a second to stare at his opponent. With another chuckle, Basil lifted his dear old queen, and placed her into perfect position.

"Check mate!" Basil said simply, his slightly large front teeth prominent in his large grin.

Doctor David Q. Dawson let out a sigh as he tipped over his own king, for what seemed like the hundredth time. He lifted his paws to his face, stroking his blonde mustache with another sigh. He could never really win against Basil, though if he recalled right he had come so very close many times. Though, he did remember, now that he put serious thought to it, that eight years ago he had won, out of the sure luck, because at the time Basil had been horribly drugged. Dawson remembered vividly that he had vowed at that moment never to let Basil near a Chinese massage shop again, because after that little incident.. Well, it would be lucky if they where ever allowed to visit China again... If he recalled they had been in the Hong Kong on a case of some missing jewels. He let out a rusty chuckle as he remembered his second case, a case that had gained him a wife.

Dawson gave a slight misty sigh as he thought about his beautiful wife, his eyes glazing over with happiness as he recalled their meeting, in this very room in fact... He pulled out his musings as Basil let out a loud bout of laughter, his quick fingers setting up the chest board again, and Dawson felt a slight bit of panic enter him at the thought of playing Basil... Again.

"So sorry Old boy, I think you almost had me there! Why not give it another play, eh Dawson?" Basil said, not at all the slight panic expression that his friend had, instead focusing on placing the old and battered pieces on the slightly chipped board.

Before the shocked Dawson could even managed a reply, a soft knock echoed from the door, the slightly hallow sound made Basil look up, and tumble out of his armchair, his long legs stretching as he rushed to the door, his eyes glittering in hope that a case was on his hands. He stopped at the door, his now ruffled clothes being straighten, his paw came up, and he pushed back his hair in an almost debonair manner, that was utterly ruined as his slightly messy fur fell back. With something close to a growl, Basil knew that he needed a hair cut. His hair was a little unruly as of late, and it was pushing at his last nerve. With another almost growl, he wrenched the door open, just as another knock echoed from the other side of the door.

The mouse on the other side blinked at the slightly annoyed face that greeted him. Basil, on the other hand felt disappointment fill him at the sight of the Carrier mouse. His green eyes flickered to the slightly overflowing leather satchel that rested on the hip of the mouse. He quickly deduced that he was not here to ask for help. The Carrier was simply delivering the mail, and by the look of the gray mouse, he was a simple London mouse, nothing more. Basil squinted as he suddenly noticed the bright morning sunlight, and how Baker street was full of human activity. How strange he thought with a small dash of uneasiness, for a Carrier mouse to come so early in the morning.

The Carrier mouse, felt a little nervous at the sight of Basil's dark, green eyes that glared at him. In those eyes the mouse could see a calculating intelligence, and if he was not mistaken, a little bit of madness. With a gulp, the Carrier mouse, clutched the letter in his hands. Trembling, the mouse lifted the letter with a shaky flourish, and he held the letter in front of Basil's nose.

"A Mister Basil of Baker street?" the Carrier mouse asked, hating how his voice shook under the Basil's piercing green glare.

Basil simply nodded, his quick fingers snatching the letter out of the hands of the gray mouse. Who in turn scampered off as soon as the letter left his paws, running out into the chaos that was Baker street. Basil shut the door, turning to the ever familiar parlor, his eyes trained on the letter that was in his hands.

"Eh, Basil who was it?" called Dawson from his green velvet chair, not even looking at the now abandoned chess board.

"Carrier mouse." replied Basil, his eyes not straying from the mysterious letter.

Basil looked on thoughtfully on the letter, staring to remember where he had seen the familiar paper, and the elegant scripted that stated his name and address. With a sigh, he turned it over and saw the seal, which in truth was a simple thing of two elegantly placed letters; O and F. He opened the letter, not remembering where ever on Earth he had seen it.

On the letter only a few words warned him, and he felt excitement fill him as he read the cryptic letter;

Basil of Baker street, I coming to London. I thought to warn you.

O. F

Again, the mysterious O and F. Basil smiled his overly large grin, emerald eyes turning slightly manic.

"THE GAME'S A FOOT!" Basil bellowed out with joy.

Dawson look on, his dark eyes widening at the sight of the scrambling Basil. For the strangest reason, he felt a slight bit of dread enter him, and he felt that maybe his world was going to change.


	3. A Midnight Stroll

**Chapter Two; A Midnight Stroll**

Olivia Flaversham tugged on a lock of her long hair, with an absent mind, twirling it around in her fingers as she strolled down the deserted, lantern lit street of London, her boots echoing almost painfully loud against the cobblestone streets. She sighed, squinting at the large piece of parchment in front of her, trying in vain to read the crapped, messy script of the map. Olivia ignored the slight twinge she felt when she realized she was lost, and had been lost the second she had left the train station, if she was really honest with herself. The train trip to London from her beloved Scotland had been harder then it should have been.

It **_had_** been a long ride, reflected Olivia, a sort of ride that had taken the whole day. It hadn't exactly been pleasant either, she thought with a rueful smile. She had almost been robbed, twice. Two mice had tried to assault her on the train, and she had been chased by a cat the second she had left the relative safety of the train station. With a quick glance around, and another peek at the map, Olivia decided to wing it, she had always been good at that in the past. So, with a flourish, she ripped up the map, letting the now shredded parchment flow into the windy night.

With a satisfied nod, Olivia walked purposely forward, her suit case bouncing slightly in her hand, giving her to attention to the next problem she had come across. Her suitcase was heavier then she thought, and she could have sworn that it had been lighter in Scotland. She had really packed with care, folding in both her worst clothes, and her best clothes inside. A small, draw-string bag held the small fortune that she had saved up during her years at finishing school, a wooden carved box held her jewelery, the only thing her deceased and long forgotten mother had left her, a few spare pairs of shoes and a tin box held her magnifying glass, along with a few souvenirs of the cases she had solved, and any other thing she used in her cases. She gave a small and girlish giggle at the thought of Basil's face if he ever found out the impact he had on her.

Olivia Flaversham had turned into a detective, following the footsteps of the man that had saved her life, and more importantly, her father's over eight years ago. She, in her own humble opinion, and of those who attended Mrs. Dates' finishing school for girls, and of the local Scottish police force, was a good detective. Her natural curiosity had fueled her need to know more, along with her ever infamous stubbornness. A stubbornness, that at the moment was the only thing that was forcing her to put one foot in front of another, and ignore the heavy weight of her large suitcase.

Another problem seem to arise, her feet hurt. Though she still walked on, Olivia did notice the pain, and she thanked heaven that she had decided against wearing her new boots, because despite the loveliness of the white button pair, she knew that if she **_had_** worn them, her feet would be covered with blisters. Even now with her oldest and most worn pair, she knew that her feet had at least one or two blisters.

Sometimes, she thought glancing at the worn brown leather of her boots, she wished to wear men shoes. They were never high heeled she thought with a quiet but sharp longing, and they never looked to be as bothersome as feminine shoes. In fact, all of men's attire was less bothersome than woman's. Olivia had proven that, numerous times when she had stolen her cousin's old clothes and worn them as a disguise, or even so she would have freer movement, after all to catch a thief in the middle of a Scottish night, you needed to moved like a thief. No self respecting thief would be caught dead in a dress. It was good thing that she had packed two of her cousin's old suits, along with a few of his shirts and trousers.

Olivia was shook herself free of her musings to glance around her, hoping against hope that she would see **_something_** familiar. And, to ever her surprise, luck was on her side. There across the street, stood a very familiar store. A store that had her thinking of white mouses dancing and blooming elegantly from a pink flower, and of deranged bats swooping down from the night to steal away fathers. It was her father's old store, she was certain. She remembered that lantern that stood off to the side, and the drainage pipe that was wound on the side of the building. She smiled softly, another girlish giggle escaping her as she though of what had happen after she had left that store, to the time she found the scrape of newspaper that would change her life, to the mangy old human boot that had sheltered her from the rain, to Dawson, dear old Dawson, one of the kindest of mouse she had ever meet in her short life time. After all, how many mice would talk to a little girl in the middle of a rainy night, and not do any harm to them? Not many, she knew that with a fierce certainty.

How she missed Dawson. How she missed Mrs. Judson, the woman who had cared for her and given her those wonderful cheese crumpets. She missed Toby the dog, who she wondered if he still liked it for someone to scratch his belly. And, of course she missed Basil, the person that at this moment was in her mind's eye, forcing her to trudge on. She gave her father's old store one last glance, before disappearing around the corner, now sure of what path would take her to Baker street. Her mind was full of images of what had happen to her all those years ago, and she couldn't help but whisper out the words that were the closest to her heart;

"I will never forget..."


	4. A Ponderous Thought

**Chapter Three; A Ponderous Thought**

Olivia blinked, her keen blue eyes gazing in front of her steadily, and her heart beating furiously against her rib cage, dancing to an aching beat inside her chest. There it was, Baker street, right in front of her. A short walk and knock away and she would be in the place that she wanted to be since she was a little girl. All she had to do was knock, and she would be happy. Then why, she thought with a trembling sigh, was she shaking? Her legs felt numb, as if they would collapse, and her knees felt oddly gelatinous.

Maybe it was because she was so close, mused Olivia, setting down her suitcase and sitting down on top of it, trying to ignore the fact that she was so close to bursting out into tears. She hated being crying. She could face down any criminal and not even bat an eyelash, fighting valiantly, never once feeling the need to cry. Yet, her she was like a scared little girl again, trying to keep her tears in check, just because she was going to meet people that had saved her. She didn't even have the excuse of being eight years old anymore, nor the excuse of losing her father. No, it was just her and her darn emotions getting the best of her.

With a another trembling sigh, Olivia put her head into her hands, breathing through her nose in quick, sharp burst, trying not to sob. She absently toyed with her hair, rolling it around with one hand, running her fingers through the long, velvety locks, trying to imitate the feeling of her hair being combed, something her father had done for her whenever she was scared or crying. It calmed her slightly, and she felt the break neck pace of her pulse slow, if only a little.

"Pathetic..." she croaked hoarsely, her voice rough and low, somehow not being able to help but to talk out loud.

She kept breathing, trying not to let the tears fall from her eyes, refusing to be weak. She couldn't be weak, in this business being weak could become fatal, either for you or for the people around you. She had enough scars on her from her early days of being a detective to prove that. After a few more moments of combing furiously, Olivia risked a glance at the door. It hadn't changed, it was still there, the same round wooden door, glass stain above it, forming a simple green window, depicting an elegant red b, along with a few darker green panes, which she assumed where suppose to be basil leaves. The same lantern as all those years ago was still hanging next to it, glowing softly, and next to that was something that wasn't in her memory, the old wooden number of the house must have been broken somehow and at sometime, because there was a brass one now, shiny and new, reflecting slightly in the lantern light.

She imagine that Basil and Dawson where on a case, sitting in the never changed parlor, Dawson in the green armchair, and Basil in the red one. Basil would eccentrically be doing things in his own way, and Dawson would put in a few spare ideas, in awe of Basil, like so many mice were when they saw him work. She smiled fondly at the thought, and wonder if there was any possible way for her to help. For her to become part of the team like she had always wished to. After all, she hadn't come from all the way from Scotland for a simple visit.

She wanted to live here, with Basil and Dawson. Because as much as she had loved Scotland, London was her home. The cobblestone streets and the sooty ash of the chimneys was something she had missed when she had moved to Scotland. Something about the green rolling hills and the splashes of deep blue lochs had seemed off to her, all those years ago when she had first arrived. She had been born in London, she was half English herself on her mother's side, and she felt that blood calling for her to move to her native country. She wanted to be a professional detective, to solve crime along side the manic Basil and gentle Dawson. Oh, how she wanted to solve mysteries together with them.

"Absolutely..." she whispered to herself, thoughtful fingers on her chin.

She couldn't ignore that her voice had more than a little wistfulness in it. She didn't make a move to go inside and see if her wish was possible though, instead she enjoyed her solitude for a few more moments, trying not to feel too terribly excited for being where she was. Trying not to jump up and charge at the door, wrench it open and jump Basil, surly knocking him over in her enthusiasm as she hugged him. He awkwardly would pat her back, uncomfortable with the display of affection, she knew this from experience. She gave a girlish giggle at the thought, knowing Basil was the most awkward huger their could possibly be.

She smiled fondly, already loving him, and of course Dawson, despite their brief meeting, and short contact. She blushed a little as she remembered the one letter she had braved to send to Basil. Oh, thank goodness Basil had not know the real reason she had sent to him for. It had been a simple school project that her English teach had dubbed; "A Letter to my Hero". She had sent it to him without a thought when she had been thirteen. Another blush rose in her cheeks as she remembered that she had placed his response inside the craved box of her jewelry. Along with her precious things.

Olivia shook her head, clearing away that thought. She stood up, and walked up to her door, trying, and somewhat failing to be brave enough to knock on the door. She never knew the very real danger she was in.

**~()~**

Elsewhere, near where Olivia stood frozen, a hunched, massive mess of a figure lay hid in the shadows of the leaves. His keen and wild yellow eyes glowing sickeningly in the lantern light, the irises betraying the figure's true madness. It looked on at Olivia, gaze burning into her back with a sort of suppressed hunger. A primal hunger that wished for nothing more than to render the small mouse limb from limb. To glorify in her messy, scarlet and gory death, to dance around the flames of her funeral pyre, laughing as her loved ones watched on in horror, before they joined her, burning the very city of London to the ground.

He knew her. _**Knew**_ her. Though eight years had passes, though the now grown girl was nearly unrecognizable, he could still tell it was her. Who else she could she be? That dratted familiar face, that annoying blue hat, with the most annoying red puff ball on top. The brat had worn it years ago, he remembered at least that much about her. She even wore a tartan scarf, showing off her heritage as a Scott, and he knew from the little she had spoken that she spoke with that almost musical Scottish lit. Just like that brat had spoken all those years ago. The one Basil had saved. The one that had cost him everything. The one he hated almost as much as Basil. That darn little girl that had proven to be his Pandora, the one who had made his very world fall apart.

How he wanted to kill her, right then in there. To kill her and to leave her bloody corpse for Basil to find, leaving him a grim message for what was to come for him, and to see Basil shake in agony at the girl's death. To see his face as he opened the door, to see it as he looked down and discovered her. He licked his chapped, dry and cut lips, imagining it all, imagining what a delicious revenge that would be. He savored the image, licking his jowls with his suppressed hunger. His one leg tensed, as if he was going to stalk over any minute to do the deed. To stalk over and leave her bloody remains, to render the girl to be just a pitiful scarlet stain on the ground.

He didn't dare. He pushed down his more primal urges for blood, gore, and action now. That revenge would be to simple. Quick. He thought, his massive, thick fingers lightly touching his scarred chin, stroking it carefully in thought, ever mindful of his large, repulsive, and sharp claws. Basil would get to excited over the girl's death, and come after her murderer. He wouldn't wallow in his despair for too long, he knew Basil better than that. He knew that he would spring into action, trying to avenge the girl, at whatever the cost.

That could reveal him sooner than he intended to be revealed, so no he didn't go charging from the bushes like a wild beast, no, he stayed where he was and simply looked on at the girl, glaring at her. All the while he imagined her death a thousand times, a million times over in his mind's eye, each death more bloody and agonizing then the last. It helped him keep the urges down, though it would never be as satisfying as her death itself, by his hands, he could almost **taste** it... He shivered slightly in pleasure, enjoying that mad thought.

Yes, he would wait. He had to wait for his revenge, he would wait and plan, the thing he was best at. He would plan the most devastating, wicked, and evil plan for his revenge. He would do it to have the most glorifying revenge. He would do it. He was going to destroy Basil, and the girl, and whoever else was important to the two of them. And after he was done with the pair of them, after there was nothing but a pitiful scarlet stain on the floor, he would set his sights on ruling over all of mousedom again, and finally take the place he so deserved to have. The path and position that fate had set for him since his glorious birth.

His broken lips pulled into a wide, maniacal smile, his chipped and sharp teeth glinting a little in the lantern light. What a wonderful plan. What a delightful one. What an inspiring one. What, a mad one. His rusty laugh echoed madly around him, not carrying over to his would be victim. Nor to the ones inside. No, neither mice of Baker street had any idea what was about to happen to them.


	5. Familiar

**Chapter Four; Familiar**

With his fingers placed on his chin, and his elbow on his knee, Basil sat, hunched over unknowingly in the classic Thinker position. He did not notice that he was imitating Rodin's famous statue, no, he was too busy looking at the yellowish parchment that was currently clutched in his hand. His expressive emerald eyes read and reread the elegant script, hoping that reading the now memorized words would trigger a reaction in him. Dawson sat in his green armchair warming himself by the fire, reading a book, sipping his earl gray tea quietly, and on occasion nibbling at the cheese crumpets that Mrs. Judson had so kindly put out for them.

Basil's own tea was left untouched, and he hadn't so much as twitched when Mrs. Judson had placed down the crumpets, which he usually inhaled in less than a minute. He was to busy gazing at the letter, frustration showing in every inch of him at the fact that he couldn't remembered where and when he had seen this type of parchment. It wasn't English, that much he could tell, the coloration of yellow was to dark to be made from any local animal. He suspected somewhere with a lot of rain, and a lot of mosses in their diet though, and if he was correct, this was the quality parchment, vellum. So whoever sent this letter was obviously well off, wealthy. Lived in the general vicinity of England, he wager.

The inked letters themselves were written in a fairly common ink, though by the slightly off coloration he guessed that it wasn't local to England like the parchment. Too light. The style of writing, well it was a lovely collection of elegant loops, and by the texture of the parchment Basil could tell that the sender's hand was not heavy, and that they were in all honesty, or at least more likely to be a female. For some reason the tone of the letter seemed more feminine, because after all, who want to be this mysterious and cryptic but a woman? He sat up from his hunched position, and lifted the parchment up to his sensitive nose.

Basil smelled a strange concoction of things; freesia a strong, spirited, and sweet odor that was combined with the more calming and soothing smell of lavender, and the smallest hint of wild thistle. It was all together a strangely pleasing smell, and it wafted into Basil nose again as he took a deep breath, enjoying the smell immensely. The female's perfume he supposed. It was a very natural smell, not at all suffocating like what most woman seemed to wear. Maybe it was made of fresh flowers? It seemed like a likely explanation. Basil was torn out of his musing by Dawson's soft and charming voice;

"Eh, Basil, what are you doing?"

Basil looked up to his old friend, trying to stop the rising blush that was coming to his face because of his sniffing. It really wasn't really his fault that he liked the smell, but the odd look Dawson was giving him made him feel a tad bit embarrassed.

"Nothing! Simply trying to tell who wrote the letter, that's all my dear fellow. I think it may have been a woman. The parchment smells rather sweet, like perfume, and the script is very delicately put, as if the hand didn't have much weight on the quill... They are not local to England, the coloration of both the ink and the parchment are wrong." responded Basil, his emerald eyes gleaming slightly as he informed Dawson of his conclusions.

Basil saw Dawson blink, and he could see clear fondness in his friend's dark eyes.

"Oh, ho! Well done, Basil! You never cease to amaze me with your deductions!" chuckled Dawson, enjoying himself greatly.

Basil smiled at him, his slightly large front teeth pulled into a more frontal display, showing off his gleaming white bones with much gusto. His eyes glittered with delight at his friend's reaction, loving the older mouse with a mixture of what one would feel toward an older brother and a father. The past eight years had been a little more than wonderful with Dawson as his partner, and the pair of them had saved each others necks more than both of them could count. Though, for the strangest reason Basil's favorite part of their partnership was Dawson's never failed amazement at his intelligence and deduction skills.

"Elementary, my dear Dawson, elementary. It is a simple matter of knowing your parchment!" exclaimed Basil with much dignity. Never mind that he had no idea where the parchment was from.

A soft knock was timidly heard on the door, and only one of the parlor's occupants looked up, their head swiveling toward the almost inaudible sound. The contents of the letter floated into Basil's mind again; Basil of Baker street, I coming to London. I thought to warn you. To London... To him... Basil leaped up, and scrambled to the door. He adjusted his red-violet robe, and he made sure his emerald ascot wasn't askew. Ignoring his rather unkempt hair, Basil opened the door.

He blinked at the sight of the mouse that was currently standing on his front porch, and the first thought that came to his mind is that she was young. Yes, a young mouse of sixteen or so, who he figured was very pretty. Which in essence, was true, the girl was rather pretty. She was slender, and not very tall, reaching to only about his shoulder. Her lithe body was clad in a very neat blue dress, a white shawl and a tartan scarf that was wound around her neck. On top of the girl's head was a very familiar hat, a blue one that held a red puff ball on top. Her face was rather familiar as well, there was something about that slightly round face that rang bells of familiarity in his mind. Her nose was rather small, and her eyes where rather large, almost childlike in proportion. But, as he looked into her deep blue eyes, Basil knew that this girl was far from a child. The irises of her eyes held intelligence, wisdom, and they looked startlingly old, as if the girl had seen a lot in her life time. Her fur was a light tan color, and the long hair that reached her waist was a deep chestnut color, some of it flipped into her eyes at an angle. She wore a rather timid smile. A smile that was directed at him.

"Hello...Basil..." said the girl, her voice reaching him in a slightly timid tone, which was drenched in a Scottish lit.

The sound of her voice once again rang the bells of familiarity in his mind, though the voice felt slightly different then the last time he had heard it... When had he heard it?

"Hello...Miss." responded Basil, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

The girl's smile grew slightly, losing some of its hesitation.

"May I come in?" she said, her voice asking, but something in her eyes made Basil think that if he said no she would come in anyway.

He nodded, stepping to aside to let her in. She picked up a large suitcase, that he hadn't noticed resting on the front porch, and lifted her skirt in an elegant manner, stepping over his high threshold. As she swept past him, Basil caught a whiff of freesia, lavender, and wild thistle. His eyes widen slightly, and he confirmed his early thought that the person that had knocked had been his letter sender. He silently cheered in his mind at the fact that he had been right about her being a female. A female who at the moment was looking around the parlor with a strange gleam of fondness in her eyes.

"It hasn't changed at all..." said the girl with delight, placing her large suitcase on the floor by the coat rack.

She soon shed her scarf, shawl, and hat, placing them on the coat rack, seemingly make herself at home. Basil noticed that the girl's hair was slightly pulled back by a red ribbon at the back of her head, a simple hair style that kept half the girl's hair up, while the other half flowed down her back. The red ribbon looked incredibly familiar to Basil too, and he couldn't help but want to hit himself over the head because he, for the life of him, could not remember where he had seen this girl. She had a strange familiarity with both him, and his flat. So he guessed she had been a client. But which one? He had dozens over the years, and he didn't recall this _**teenage**_ girl being one of them.

Dawson had just looked up from his rather intriguing medical book to see that a guest was in his mist. He blinked at the sight of the young mouse, seeming to remember her from somewhere. He knew this girl, something about her face was incredibly familiar to the Doctor.

"Hello, dear." Dawson greeted her, putting down his book, and standing up to extend his hand toward the girl.

The girl's eyes sparkled at the sight of him, her timid smile disappearing to form a beaming one. The little hesitation she had possessed disappeared, and she whole hearty walked up to Dawson, shook his hand, and then pecked the older mouse squarely on the cheek. Dawson felt strangely pleased by the gesture, and felt that it had been only a simple gesture of affection between friends.

"Oh Doctor Dawson, what a pleasure to see you! You look just the same as always!" exclaimed the girl.

Again, Dawson felt oddly pleased by the stranger's exclamation, and he felt a great rush of warmth toward the girl.

"Do I now?" he asked, his dark eyes sparkling with delight.

The girl merely nodded, her own eyes sparkling with mirth. Basil started at the exchange with lifted brows, still staring at the girl as she strolled around the room. Her small and nimble looking fingers glossing over some of the things in his parlor, and sometimes they'd twitched as if the girl was going to touch them, though quite not daring to. This was especially obvious as she reached his chemistry set, and he could see strong longing in the girl's blue eyes. Though, soon she walked away from it, sparing it a few glances now and again. She did however finally touch something when she reached the hole filled wall that held his target; she grabbed a spare dart, stepped back until she was a good distance away, and then she let it fly. It hit the middle, landing a perfect bulls-eye. The girl nodded to herself, before walking towards the armchairs.

Her keen blue eyes stared down at the abandoned chess bored, set up in a middle of a game. Basil and Dawson had started a game to calm Basil down after he had received the letter, but Basil had not been able to concentrate, instead choosing to stare at the letter. Now the girl's hand went out, her fingers nimbly picking up Dawson's white queen. With a quick move, the girl made a play. Both Dawson and Basil stared in astonishment at the girl's move, one that neither of them had seen coming. It was completely fair, and completely a legal move. And it made Basil loose.

"Checkmate." said the girl, voice full of triumph.

A brief, but stunned silence filled the room at the girl's announcement, before Dawson blurted out;

"Well played."in a shocked and amused voice.

Basil could only splutter out a few squeaky noises, stunned that someone had beaten him at chess. And then, excitement filled him. What would happen if they actually played against one another? His emerald eyes, unbeknownst to him filled with a manic light, and he rushed over to the girl, beaming.

"Play me!" he said excitedly, grabbing her small paws in his large ones.

The girl blinked at him, eyes wide at his expression. She looked like a mouse caught by a cat, and a little bewilderment filled her expression. Dawson, deiced to save the girl from the torment of playing against Basil, besides, she looked honestly exhausted, and she didn't need the headache, or at least that was his professional medical opinion.

"Basil! Now, don't be rude to our guest, she been kept standing long enough! Why don't you sit down my dear?" said Dawson, prying Basil's paws away from the girl's and leading her to sit in the red armchair.

The girl looked at both of them, her head moving in a fast motion as she looked back in forth between the both of them. Her brows crumpled slightly, and a sad smile tugged at her lips.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" she asked, her voice floating out, her Scottish lit highlighted sharply with her sad tone.

Both Basil and Dawson shared a brief look before turning to her, shaking their heads. The girl sighed, her bangs flipping into her eyes as she slumped down in the chair. Her hand came up to move away the chestnut strands, glancing at Dawson and Basil again. She smiled ruefully, and opened her mouth to speak. Though she was interrupted by an exclaimed shriek. The parlor's occupants looked up to see Mrs. Judson's shocked face. In her hand was a tray carrying freshly made crumpets. The girl's stomach gave an automatic growl when the delicious smell of cheese floated into her nose. She hadn't eaten all day, and she had spent most of the night walking lost in London. A blush rose into her cheeks as the three other mice stared at her.

"OH! You poor dear! You must be terribly hungry!" shrieked out Mrs. Judson, rushing over and all but dumping the plate of cheese crumpets onto the girl's lap, "You look exhausted my dear, I'll make you a spot of honey tea to give you a little more energy!" said the woman, rushing off to do exactly that.

The girl was looking a little wide eyed as if she was struggling to stay awake, though she was happily nibbling her cheese crumpets. She soon was on her fifth one, ignoring the looks that both Dawson and Basil were giving her. She was really to hungry to care to be lady like at the moment.

"Hungry are you?" asked Basil, looking at the girl with a peculiar expression on his face.

The girl laughed, the musical sound floating around both Dawson and Basil, like a caress. She looked up to them, eyes glittering.

"Starving. You should try running around London lost all day, after a long train ride no less. I didn't even have breakfast today... I was running late this morning..."said the girl matter a factually, picking up her sixth crumpet.

"Busy day, eh?" said Basil, leaning against the chair, gazing down at the girl.

Again, the girl laughed, rolling her eyes in a teasing manner. She waved her hand dismissively, speaking to the both of them in a slightly harassed tone;

"Busy? How about chaotic, I didn't have a moment's peace! Not only was I almost mugged twice, I happened to be assaulted too! And then, if you please, I was chased by a cat the moment I stepped out of the train station... It is a miracle that I made it to Baker street at all."

Dawson chose that moment to ask the question that was on both his and Basil's minds;

"And what, my dear leads you to go through such trouble just to come to Baker street?"

The girl blinked at them, taking in both Dawson's gently curious expression, and Basil's fierce one. Her own face took a slight light of hesitation, and she bit her lip in her nervousness. She wasn't really sure how she was going to phrase her reason for coming to Baker street... She was saved from explaining herself as Mrs. Judson came back in, her arms laden with a pipping hot tea pot.

"Here you are dearie..." said Mrs. Judson, pouring the girl a large cup of tea.

The girl beamed tiredly to Mrs. Judson, taking the tea and sipping with much delicacy. After a moment the girl put the tea cup onto the serving table, and grabbed another crumpet.

"Thank you, Mrs. Judson. This is lovely... Oh thank you. I feel much better now." thanked the girl, still beaming at the older mouse with a fond look in her eyes.

Mrs. Judson merely smiled motherly to the girl, patting her hand softly and nodding at her. She poured tea for the Basil, and Dawson, picking up their earlier tea, and scowled at Basil's full cup. With a huff, she left, tapping Basil on the head with a tea spoon in a affectionate manner, somehow still managing to be scolding with the loving gesture. Dawson sat in his armchair, while Basil leaned once again against the side of the girl's chair. All of them sipped at their tea, enjoying the slight jolt of energy that came with the feeling of the warm honey falling against their tongues. They also helped themselves to the crumpets, savoring the almost spice taste.

"Now, Miss. I now ask you, why are you here?" asked Basil after another moment of companionable silence.

The girl looked at him, her large blue eyes snapping to his own emerald ones. Basil barely dared to breath, seemingly to drowning in the emotion filled depths of this girl's endless eyes. Again, it stuck Basil that they looked incredibly old, as if this girl had seen a lot in her short life time. At the moment they were filled with a sort of pleading, and it looked as if the girl was asking something of him. What, he wasn't sure what.

"Why? Basil of Baker street, before I answer that question for you, I want to ask you something." she responded after a moment, her eyes steadily staring at him.

Basil nodded, deciding to let the girl ask her question. Dawson, looked on, his dark eyes flipping back

and forth between Basil and the girl, like he was watching an interesting badminton match. The girl straighten in her chair, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin slightly in defiance.

"Only eight years past and you forget me?"accused the girl, eyes flashing a little with hurt.

Both Dawson and Basil blinked, brows furrowing at the girl's words. Basil stared on at the girl. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Basil's eyes widen. Everything clicked for him, every little clue fit into the puzzle. He let out a joyous yell, jumping up in his excitement. Both Dawson and the girl jumped at his reaction, eyes wide as Basil dropped gallantly to his knees to kneel before the girl, grabbing her paws in his, beaming.

"Olivia Flanger-hanger!" he screamed out, shocking Dawson.

Dawson felt himself beaming at her, suddenly getting why he found her so familiar.

"Flaversham." corrected Olivia automatically, in tune with Dawson, both of them shaking their heads with mirth at Basil inability to not remember her name.

"Whatever!" soon chorused all of them, laughing.

Olivia beamed at both of them, eyes sparkling. Not being able to contain herself, she threw herself at Basil, like she predicted before knocking him over in her enthusiasm. He even patted her back. It was an incredibly warm moment, and Basil remember the little girl he had held before. Had it really been eight years? Their was something about the hug that made him feel both incredibly young and so incredibly old at the same time. Their embrace was broken by Olivia, who leaped up and hugged Dawson. Basil blinked on the floor, looking up at both of them. His gaze locked onto Olivia, comparing her in his mind eye to the little girl that had come to him in her hour of need all those years ago.

"Olivia, my dear, what on earth happened to your hair? Why is the color so different?" asked Basil, finally leaping up and dusting himself off, really asking the first question that came to his mind.

Olivia left Dawson's embrace, turning to Basil. Her paw reached up and tugged at her chestnut locks, smiling at Basil knowingly.

"If I recall right my hair was lighter when you first met me, wasn't it? It grew darker with age... That happens sometimes, you know... My father's hair is around this shade, remember?" said Olivia wisely, still tugging at the long lock of hair.

Basil nodded, once again comparing the little girl to the grown one in his parlor. What a difference

eight years had made!

"It is... Now, Olivia, I have to ask, why are you here? Is their something wrong? Where is your father?" asked Dawson suddenly, concern seeping into his dark eyes.

Olivia looked over and smiled reassuringly to the doctor, waving off his concern with a simple gesture.

"He is fine, Doctor Dawson. Probably worrying himself to death as always, but fine. Nothing is wrong, and as to the reason I'm here... Well... I'm not sure how to put this..." she said, suddenly fumbling for an answer.

Basil put a hand on her shoulder, smiling at her calmly. He made a simple gesture for her to continue. She did, absently tugging on her hair again.

"Well... I... I want to live here with you. I want to work with the both of you... I want to be a professional detective."

Whatever Basil had expected, it hadn't been _**that**_. He felt completely flabbergasted. A detective, Olivia? A detective? Where on earth had she gotten that idea!

"What?" asked Dawson, equally astonished as Basil at Olivia's statement.

She smiled, suddenly calm at their reaction.

"I want to live here. Did you really think that I come all the way from Scotland for a simple visit? I have been a detective for quiet some time, I just want to work with the both of you..."

Again, Dawson and Basil only felt astonishment at her announcement. And she, well she gave a girlish giggle that was exactly as the one she had eight years ago. She stood up, walking over to the long forgotten suitcase, and kneeled by it. She opened it, and after a few moments of her digging through, she pulled out a tin box. She then opened that, and pulled out a few things. Closing the box, she walked over to the pair of them, a smile still on her lips at their humorous expressions. She presented them with parchments in a quick and flourishing movement.

"Don't believe me? Well, take a look." she said with a playful smirk, her eyes glittering.

Unable to contain themselves, both Dawson and Basil quickly poured over the parchments, reading it with the utmost concentration. What they read only made their eyes grow larger and larger, and their

jaws to drop further and further to the ground. What they held in their hands were countless police reports, formal ones and informal ones, all raving about Olivia's detective skills. Their were also a few notes from the young woman that attend Mrs. Date's prestigious finishing school, ranging from approval of her detective skills, to her academic, all still only reporting good things about Miss Flaversham. The last note was from the mayor of Olivia's town, wishing her well in London, and thanking her for solving the disappearance of the french noble that had gone missing a few months ago. Oh, and that he hoped that she wouldn't have to go as far as Japan on her next case.

"_**Well**_." was all Basil and Dawson could say at that.

Olivia was smiling timidly at them, her cheeks high in color. Dawson and Basil could only gape like fishes for a few more moments. Then, all of sudden, Basil let out a sigh.

" You don't have anywhere to go, do you?" he asked this in a tired voice.

Olivia confirmed this, shaking her head. Again, Basil gave a sigh.

"You might as well stay here... I see no trouble to it... But you are not yet our partner, you are a... Guest, and you shall be evaluated to see if you have what it takes to be a detective. Miss. Flasher-Masher, this is not a game to be taken lightly. Well talk in the morning, it's late, and I'm sure your exhausted. Not to mention that Genevieve will have your neck Dawson!" Basil said this all in a calm tone, though the last bit he directed to Dawson sounded a tad bit frighten.

Dawson, paled, looking at the clock with an alarmed face. Meanwhile, Olivia blinked bewilderingly on at them, wondering who on earth was Genevieve. She was about to ask, but she barely opened her mouth before Dawson was gone, taking his medical book, his hat and himself out of Basil's parlor, and out the door. He gave them a merry little wave before shutting the door behind him. Olivia was left behind, curios to know what had just happened.

"Genevieve?" she questioned, turning to Basil with furrowed brows.

Basil smiled grimly, his face taking a slightly frighten look.

"Dawson's wife. Scary woman. Never get one her bad side, that is all I can really tell you..." said Basil, shaking his head sadly, thinking of his entirely whipped friend.

Olivia laughed and Basil scowled.

"Dash it girl, I'm being perfectly serious, you should not cross Dawson's wife!" he exclaimed, hands

dramatically lifting up and down to further prove his point.

She only laughed again, a laugh that was quickly followed by a yawn. This, like most things, Basil did not miss. His emerald eyes softened for a moment. Olivia was obviously exhausted, he could see it in her slightly glazed eyes. She had had a long day, and she needed rest. Thankfully, at that moment Mrs. Judson came in. She took one look at Olivia's face and tutted, hands on her large hips. She singled to Basil to do something, pointing up stairs with her message, and then set herself to cleaning up the tea things. Basil quickly went to Olivia's suitcase, and stuffed the parchments inside the tin box, then the box in the suitcase. He grabbed the case, surprised at how heavy it really was, but nonetheless still walking forward to offer his arm to the exhausted young mouse in front of him.

Olivia took Basil's offered arm without much hesitation, her long day seemingly to hit her all at once. Soon, she found herself being directed to a part of Basil's flat that she hadn't seen. A hallway of sorts, and after a quick flight of stairs, Olivia found herself in another hallway, Like the other one, it had an assortment of wooden doors, paintings, and the occasional display case. Treasures, things of enormous value. Then, Olivia found herself in a lovely red room. Basil put her suitcase down by the bed, and gave a gallant bow.

"Your room... I hope you find it comfortable.. See you in the morning." he said this with a kind smile, about to slip away.

Olivia couldn't have that, so she grabbed his arm, quickly. Basil paused, surprised by her actions. She only gave him a smile.

"Thank you Basil. I know this must be strange... But thank you for letting me stay here. I don't think being a detective is a game, just so you know..." she said, as serious as a mouse could possibly be.

Basil nodded, something in him still not believing that Olivia FanelShever could want to be a detective. It just didn't make sense to him. Though, in all honesty neither did the teenage girl in front of him, he half expected her to shrink at any moment, and become the little girl that was in his mind's eye.

"In the morning we will discuss this further." was all he said to her, again about to leave.

Olivia nodded, her keen eyes seemingly knowing his doubt.

"Goodnight Basil." she said softly, after a moment of hesitation, she leaned onto her tippy toes and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Basil blinked. Her warm lips soon left his cheek, and she turned away to rummaged through her suitcase, getting ready for bed no doubt. He soon turned to leave, though not before he too whispered

out to her a;

"Goodnight."

Olivia soon was ready for bed, and she quickly rid her hair of her trademark ribbon, placing it onto the night stand. She deiced to unpack things in the morning. Climbing into the enormous queen bed, Olivia relished the feel of silk and velvet against her fur. She soon fell asleep, dreaming away from the red room into a peaceful oblivion.

**~()~**

**AN; Hello all! Thank you for anyone who reads this story, and I hope you are all enjoying it. Please leave a review, I would enjoy the feed back and any general advice that you guys can give. Oh, and I also like to point out the obvious and say now that I do not own the Great Mouse Detective, I simply like to play around with characters... Again, please leave a review, and thank you for reading. The next chapter is called Morning Serenade. **


	6. Morning Serenade

**Chapter Five: Morning Serenade**

Olivia awoke, her deep blue eyes opening slowly, flinching slightly as the dim light entered her retinas. Red clouded her vision, and for a moment Olivia felt panic enter her at the sight of the unfamiliar room that she was in. That brief moment passed, and Olivia remembered where she was. Excitement bubbled up in her chest, and she had to suppress the squeal that was threatening to escape her at the fact that she was really here. The place that from moment she had left it all those years ago, had wanted to come running back. If she really thought about though, she had always found an excuse not to come...

Her father had always offered her a trip to London, but she had always claimed that she was busy. She needed to just solve this one case. Her friends had invited her to go to France. Oh, she just couldn't her school had a trip to Spain. Her homework is just to much this week... The spring cleaning in the shop has to be done! Always an excuse. One way or another, Olivia had managed to skip the trip to London for eight years... And why? Because she wasn't ready. She still had so much to learn before she came. She couldn't come here for just a visit, she just couldn't. Even as an eight year old Olivia had known that if she came to London and couldn't stay there forever, that she would fall apart afterward. So she had waited. And waited, and learned as much as she could cram into her brain, and had solved as many cases as she could before she thought she was ready.

Olivia sighed, part of her thinking she still wasn't ready. She was a sixteen year old girl, and she knew that she wasn't an adult just yet. But something this year had been different, thought Olivia, swinging her legs out of the soft, and warm sheets, wanting nothing more than to just crawl back under them and sleep for another eight hours. When school had ended last term, only a week ago, something had made Olivia pack her suitcase, and buy a train ticket. Something inside Olivia had told her that now was the time. Something had complied her to abandon everything in her life in Scotland, and come here.

She glanced around her, taking in the charming, but simply furnished room. It was of course, as Olivia noticed before, completely covered in the color red. The walls were covered in a scarlet wall paper, with burgundy ascents. The floors, like the rest of the flat were made of a dark wood, though again the red theme continued by the addition of a plush round carpet. Even the only furniture in the room was made from a deep cherry wood, from the small vanity to the impressive bed. Which, was covered in plush velvet cover, red of course. The nightstand, also of cherry wood, beckoned her with the sight of a pitcher of water, and a small glass. Parched, she reached out and poured herself a glass, once again observing her surroundings with care.

It wasn't a large room. But it wasn't small. It was charming, with all its monochromaticness... She found herself liking it, imagining curling up on the desk by the window, a blanket over her as she poured over notes. As she looked over to the vanity, Olivia flinched, cringing at the state of her hair. As always, no matter how many times the night before she had pinned and braided, her hair the next morning was in a state that she was sure that some of her bird friends would take a liking to it. It was horrible, and she wonder how her hair could even stick up like that, if by all the laws of gravity it was suppose to come down. She sighed, grateful that for most of the time, her hair behaved like hair was suppose to. Though, every morning it was a battle...

Olivia set herself to getting ready, just noticing that she had been standing around in a male bachelor's home in just a night gown. Even if she was in the her own room, Olivia felt that Basil could be a tad... _**enthusiastic**_... when he was excited. Meaning that he could be coming to her room at any moment during her stay, and she couldn't be as relaxed. Honestly, it didn't even matter to her, plenty of men had seen her in various states of inappropriateness when in came to what she was wearing, after all being a detective lead to her wearing disguises. But she felt that Basil was one of those mice that got embarrassed easily, and he would not be overjoyed to see her in a night gown.

With that in mind, Olivia started getting ready for the day. The contents of her suitcase were soon laid out in front of her, and she found her brush, picked it up, and began tearing it through the bird nest that was her hair. With a few well-practiced strokes, soon Olivia had her hair in a state that would not frighten the masses. One battle done, she then proceeded to the next battle of choosing what to wear. She unfortunately had many dresses to choose from thanks to a friend of her's, Lenora, that insisted she have a dress of every shade possible and for every occasion. She was sorely tempted to wear her male clothes today, if just for the comfort. The image of Basil's face when he saw her would be quite a funny sight, but she deiced not to scare both him and Dawson away with her peculiar habits just yet.

So instead she chose to wear a lovely emerald dress, the airy fabric was just what her mood wanted. Before that, she decided to put away the mess of clothes she had left on the bed. Those quickly went into the closet that stood in the corner, along with her extra shoes and she smiled at the surprisingly large interior. If she ever cared to buy more clothes, something she seriously doubted she would do without her friend Lenora, she could fit them easily fit them inside. She then set out to personalize the room a little more, placing her brush on the vanity, along with her few cosmetics and carved jewelery box. Anything related to her work or writing went onto the desk, and she placed her draw-string bag of money under her mattress. She smiled when she was done, glad because the room looked a little more hers, instead of just a room that Basil had shoved her in last night.

Her musing were interrupt as the door opened, and Olivia wanted to hit herself over the head for still being in her bed clothes. Her worry was left unfounded, because a smiling Mrs. Judson walked in, a fluffy towel in her arms, along with a few other things Olivia recognized as soaps.

"Olivia, good morning, my dear!" said Mrs. Judson, her always harassed voice warm.

Olivia grinned at the motherly woman, reaching over to take away the towel and soaps, dumping them on the bed to embrace her. Mrs. Judson returned the hug with slight surprise, but nonetheless pleased at the affection she received from the younger girl.

"Oh, Mrs. Judson, good morning! I'm terribly sorry that I didn't greet you last night, my manners seemed to have escaped me!" said Olivia, pecking the woman on the cheek with a another smile.

Again, Mrs. Judson was pleased at the girl's affection. It was a little strange to believe that Basil and Dawson had not recognized the girl last night. The second she had laid eyes on her she had just known who she was. She supposed it was her motherly instinct, after all she had felt a connection to the girl all those years ago, like she had gained a daughter the moment she had seen that small, drenched girl. Seeing the tired girl yesterday had only made her motherly instinct increase, though of course she was ever so pleased to the see the girl. Eight years was really too long a time.

"Think nothing of it, dearie... Now I've drawn a bath, and as you can see, I brought you a few things, let me bring you to the bathroom." said Mrs. Judson, patting Olivia's cheek and slipping out of her embrace.

Olivia nodded, turning around to the closet to get her own bath things, showing them to Mrs. Judson with slight pride, as they had been rather expensive. Soon, Olivia had everything she would need for her bath, padding away bare foot after Mrs. Judson across the hall. Mrs. Judson beamed at Olivia as she opened the dark wooden door, gesturing for her to enter with a prideful flourish. On the other side the door, Olivia found something that made her feel slight relief, for she expected the bathroom to be quite worse for wear, after all it was a bachelor's home. A soft voice in her head reminded her that a very vain bachelor lived here, and he would never allow anything to fall into disrepair, if only for pride's sake.

With that in mind, Olivia padded on the cold ceramic tile, noting, that like in her own room this one comprised of just one primary color, though this time it was blue. Though the tile beneath her feet was mostly white, the smaller ascent tiles where a deep, rich blue. The color ran up the walls, in a elegant royal blue that made Olivia feel slightly calmer. When she caught sight of the claw-foot tub, though all thoughts of the decor slipped through her mind. She could feel the warm steam that was emanating from the tub, and Olivia couldn't help but beam at the sight of the warm, and surly to be relaxing waters.

"I leave you to it, dearie." said Mrs. Judson, nodding to her when she turned around. She shut the door as she left.

Olivia was soon inching into the tub, feeling her slightly tensed muscles relax as soon as the hot water touched them. She was pleased at the smell of lavender that entered her nose, and she was glad that she had decided to buy that expensive soap, because she just loved the scent. The same went for her freesia wash that she had bought for her hair in Paris, and she couldn't help but marvel at the way the wash made her hair feel. Her fingers ran through her hair, enjoying calming motion of combing through her hair. As Olivia dunked her head into the water, she heard the most peculiar sound.

It was a lively sound. It echoed through the walls with such energy and loudness that it made Olivia wrench upwards in surprise, blinking slightly painfully as the suds of her hair wash entered her eyes. She quickly splashed water into her eyes to ease the stinging, and pushed the foamy and dripping wet locks of her hair out of her face, still hearing the sound. After a few moments, Olivia finally recognized the origin of the sound. A violin.

Basil was playing. She had only ever heard him play once, and at the time he had been majorly depressed. He had played a rather sad melody back then, so full of his disappointment at not being able to find Ratigan. But today was different, today the sound that emitted from his violin was lively, happy and seemed to Olivia to be a very freeing melody. She finished her bath while his violin serenaded her, unknowingly wearing a smile on her face throughout it.

When she was dressed, she padded once again barefoot back to her room, slipping inside to put on her boots, lacing the complicated laces carefully. With that done she quickly brushed her hair, tying it back with her red ribbon, still listening to the complex melody that echoed through the walls of the flat. The song ended, and Olivia felt a slight lost as it did, but soon rejoiced as another one started, this time with more complicated wavering notes. The new song seemed to make the last one comparably simple with all the long sweet notes, and the even faster pace of the song. It guided her, taking her down the hall, down the stairs and stopping in front of a door, the sound of the violin louder than ever as it reached a pinnacle point in the song, the already impossibly fast tempo of the song getting even faster.

Olivia opened the door with the lightest of touches, trying not to make a sound and interrupt the beautiful song. The sight on the other side of the door made her breath hitch, eyes mesmerized by the creature in front of her. He was truly a sight, with his eyes closed, and his brows furrowed, Basil played his violin with such emotion and intensity that it made her just stand there, breath locked in her throat as she looked on. Looking on at him as the long, spindly fingers of his right hand moved across the top of the violin with a practiced grace, his left hand moving the bow in a fierce movement, almost as if he was making the bow dance across the strings to produce the song.

It was such a powerful thing, to see Basil play. Olivia knew that if she watch him for hours, she would never tire if he played like this all that time. With a startlingly realization, Olivia knew that Basil was truly a genius, not only as a detective, but as just a mouse. How she could think any thing different, after watching him play like this? She watched him quietly, taking in his almost pained face, of how his mouth was pulled into a strained scowl. After what seemed like a bewitching eternally, Basil's song came to an end, and his arms dropped down in a unceremonious, and slightly clumsy movement, breaking the spell that had come over Olivia.

His emerald eyes opened slowly, his usually glowing eyes flat and almost hallow looking as they stared out into the world. They flickered to her for a brief moment, before flickering back to stare at their previous position. It took his brain a moment before he really realized she was there, and his eyes widen comically as he looked back to her, his mouth slightly a gape with surprise. He spluttered wordlessly for a moment, color rising into his cheeks at the look she was giving him.

"You play beautifully, Basil." Olivia said, trying to ease his embarrassment, if only a little.

The sound of Olivia's voice broke Basil out of his surprise, making him straighten at the sound of her Scottish lit. His cheeks cooled, and he smiled as debonairly as he could to the girl, wanting to hit himself over the head at the fact that he hadn't heard her come in. His mind wandered, and he found himself thinking of how she walked, so silently that even he couldn't hear her. In truth, she walked almost as if she was gliding, her steps small and delicate, never making a sound. He responded to her compliment, looking at her and still finding it hard to believe that this young woman was the little girl he had meet so long ago;

"My dear Miss. Flabbergin, thank you. I really only dabble in the art of the violin. My detective skills are what are truly beautiful."

To his surprise, the girl laughed, the bell like sound caressing him with its melody. It was different from the one he had heard last night, neither the girlish giggle, nor the tired chuckle he had hear.

"Modesty from Basil of Baker street, what an odd thing." she teased, once again laughing.

He found himself embarrassed, and once again surprised that she had remembered his slightly vain manner, and that she was teasing him! He simply huffed at her, feeling once again annoyed , just like he had been all those years ago when he had first met her.

"And my name is Flaversham. Honestly, you could never get it right." she said, shaking her head fondly at him.

He shrugged, rolling his eyes, in a uncaring manner, muttering, "Whatever."

That only caused another laugh, and for the strangest reason Basil fond her laugh to be a wonderful thing to listen to. Unconsciously he smiled.

"What a sight you are Olivia!" cooed a voice, making the both of them look up in surprise.

It was Mrs. Judson, and she stood in the doorway with starry eyes, gazing at Olivia with the utmost fondness. She walked over and beamed at her. It looked as if the older woman was trying anything in her power not to tackle Olivia into a hug.

"What?" I asked Olivia in slight confusion, tilting her head to the side.

Mrs. Judson merely kept up her smile, and tugged on the flowing and sheer fabric of Olivia's dress.

"Your dress is lovely, dearie, You look just like a doll!" responded Mrs. Judson cooing fondly, just loving the girl.

Olivia ducked her head, heat rising in her cheeks at the compliment. It wasn't often someone commentated on her appearance, and it was always something that made her very self-conscious. It wasn't as if she was pretty, no it was her friend Lenora that was pretty, truly. She knew that she wasn't hideous, but compared to Lenora she was surly plain. Lenora had more of fashion sense then her as well, in fact she had chosen the dress. Even bought it for her when she had point blank refused too... She dismissed her wandering thoughts and responded to Mrs. Judson sheepishly;

"Thank you... My friend Lenora bought the dress for me, claiming that it was made for me... I think I almost killed her when I saw the price... And I look nothing like a doll, trust me, my father has made enough in front of me that I know this..."

Basil snorted, muttering, " Nonsense..."

This did not of course, help Olivia's rising color, being complimented by her hero on her appearance was almost too much. She wondered dryly how she would react at him complimenting her on her detective skills... She would probably be able to die happy she supposed, after she spontaneously combusted in happiness. She rolled her eyes at both Basil and Mrs. Judson.

"I'm not a doll." she said it almost tiredly, remembering that most of her friends called her that, despite her many protests. She could never get them to stop!

Again, Basil only snorted, shrugging his shoulders, and waving his hand dismissively at her comment. She could say all she wanted on the manner, he still agreed with Mrs. Judson, she really did look like a doll. What else could she look like when she had those big blue eyes, and that slightly round face? She did look like a living doll, truthfully.

"As I said before Miss. Flibbershiver, nonsense, false modesty will get you nowhere in this house!" he said with a teasing smile, triumph in his eyes at the fact that he was making her uncomfortable, as she had made him only moments ago.

"Flaversham." she intoned, pouting at the fact that they where ganging up on her.

Both Mrs. Judson and Basil found her face to be highly amusing, and they couldn't help but tease her further.

"Whatever!" chorused Mrs. Judson and Basil, grinning at her with a mischievous glint in their eyes.

Olivia huffed, thinking that the sweet Mrs. Judson had been around Basil for far to long, he was starting to reflect in her personality. She shook her head.

"Whatever indeed. How would you like it if I got your name ever time I spoke to you, eh, Barley?" she snapped a little snidely.

Basil only smiled at her, a smile that was full of superiority.

"Then Miss. Fishwisher, I would call in Dawson to get a good look at you, for you clearly would be ill to get _**my**_ name wrong." he said laughing internally at her slightly peeved face.

Mrs. Judson watched them squabble for a few more moments, eyes flickering back in forth between the both of them as if they were an interesting badminton match. She was quite surprised, she hadn't seen Mr. Basil act like this since he was a young teenager, and it was so odd to see the grown man act like this now. It wasn't a bad thing she reflected as she watched his eyes glittering with mirth as he and Olivia traded mild insults. In fact it was nice to see that the girl could make him react this way. What was that old saying her father used to say? The young keep the old young... Or something along those lines. She smiled at their banter, but knew sadly she had to interrupt them.

"Olivia, Mr. Basil, if you would stop your bickering for a moment please?" she asked laughing as they looked over to her, cheeks high and color, but their eyes glittering at the exchanged they had just had.

"Yes?" they intoned together, eyes flickering to each other for a moment to throw in a playful glare.

Mrs. Judson laughed again, thinking how the two of them were oddly alike.

"Breakfast will cool at the rate the both of you are going, come along now." she said, walking to the door and leading them away from the parlor.

Both Olivia and Basil followed, a little sheepishly as they felt a tad embarrassed. Olivia because she had fought, if only mildly with her hero, and Basil because he had fought with a teenage girl. It didn't help his ego at the fact that the girl had held her own against him. They entered Basil's slightly worn dining room, which Olivia loved the second she entered.

It like the parlor held a much used feel, and some of the green wall paper was charmingly peeling off in some places, reveling a nicely contrasting blue wall paper bellow. The chandelier was simple, and the woven brass of the design glowed faintly in the morning light. Bellow it, a oval table of dark wood stood covered with a white linen cloth, surrounded by a couple of mismatch chairs. The room, all and all gave a very causal feel, and Olivia had a feeling that Basil rarely entertained. It was lovely nonetheless, and not for the first time since entering this house, Olivia felt her stomach give a loud growl at the smell of the small feast that was laid out in front of her.

The food, like the dinning room, was very simple and humble. It was a light meal, an assortments of fresh fruits, toast, and various jams. A dish of scrambled eggs was in the middle of the table, with everything else surrounding it. The heaviest thing Olivia could see on the table was a small plate of six spiced sausages. She resolved to eat that along with some fruit, and she blushed as her stomach gave an even louder growl, alerting her companions to her hunger. The incredulous stare of Basil and the surprised one of Mrs. Judson made her chin lift slightly defiantly. Just because she was a girl didn't mean that she wasn't a big eater, in fact if she could recall right she could beat anyone back home with the sheer amount of food she ate. It just wasn't her fault that she was so hungry all the time.

"Hungry, dearie? Why don't you take a seat?" said Mrs. Judson, grabbing her arm and guiding her over to a seat to the left of the head of the table.

Olivia took it, and folded a napkin into her lap with a much practiced movement. Basil and Mrs. Judson soon took their respected seats, Basil at the head and Mrs. Judson at his right. They ate their meal in relative silence, save for the few rare moments they asked for something to be passed, or when Basil and Olivia fought over the last sausage. After scolding them for making the fat sausage stain the once very white table cloth, Mrs. Judson cleared the plates, dismissing Olivia's offer to pick them up herself. She shooed both Basil and Olivia out of the dining room, pushing them with a firm shove to the parlor, her face warning them to not come near the dinning room, unless they wanted a very cross Mrs. Judson on their hands.

Both Basil and Olivia walked with a little shame toward the parlor, surprised that they had acted so childishly. Part of them couldn't bring themselves to regret the action though, because it had been so fun to verbally spar with someone that was up to their level. They seated themselves on the armchairs, and somehow Basil did not find himself in is favorite chair, but in the green one as Olivia shuffled slightly in his red armchair, getting herself comfortable before looking up to him with an expectant expression.

"What?" he asked, in an almost bored tone as she simply continued to look at him.

Olivia bristled.

"What? What do you mean what? Last night we stopped talking, and you said that in the morning we would continue to talk." she said, with a little bite in her tone.

Basil tried not to show his amusement at her annoyance. He somewhat failed as a smile was unconsciously on his face.

"Then talk away my dear." said Basil pleasantly, his hand moving in a grand gesture, some part of him still wondering just how he had ended up in the green chair.

Olivia ignored her simmering annoyance, and decided to keep her temper in check. She needed to talk to Basil calmly about this. Her future was at stake. Basil looked on at Olivia as her demeanor changed completely, suddenly looking older than the sixteen she was, looking at him with the utmost seriousness.

"Basil. I want to know for how long you are going to allow me to live in your home. I want to know if you where serious when you said I would be evaluated before I was made into your's and Doctor Dawson's partner. I want to know if you take me serious or not, and if you think me a ditzy little girl that has no idea what she is talking or asking for. And I want to know now." Olivia said this evenly, making sure her voice held no true emotion and her eyes held a steely glint as she looked straight into Basil's emerald eyes.

Her chin lifted slightly in defiance and her shoulders squared, readying for what ever was coming. Basil himself gulped a little, taking in the solemn girl in front of him and knowing his answer would determine whether or not he would receive any bodily harm today. So, he choose his words with care, keeping silent until he was sure he thought of the right answer.

"Your allowed to stay here to the end of the summer... Now, don't look at me like that … You still haven't graduated school have you?" He spoke as calmly as he could, trying not alert her temper.

To his surprise, Olivia smiled, a small blush appearing on her cheeks as she looked on at him.

"I graduated this summer... Early placement." she said with as much modesty as she could, trying not to show off.

A smart girl then, thought Basil, leaning forward, placing his fingers on his chin as he leaned forward.

"Really now? But the length of time still remains Miss. FrankerFur, you have to understand that a young lady such as your self should be living with her father, not with a bachelor."

He expected a tantrum, for the little of what he knew of this grown Olivia is that she was a tad sensitive about her gender, he could see that every time she was compared to anything feminine, he sadly thought that at some point in her detective days she must have been criticized by her gender, and by the looks of it she had become almost malevolent to those who made her seem at all feminine. Not, that she made an effort to look masculine, thought Basil, checking over her very feminine dress and manner. But nonetheless, the girl nodded, if a little sheepishly.

"My Headmistress would simply kill me if she knew. But, I can assure you Basil, it matters not to me of how I am perceived by the public, but if it is for your image's sake, then I understand and will move into my own flat nearby."she said this calmly, though he could see a little hesitation in her eyes.

Basil frowned a little at the thought of him caring for his reputation. He had never cared about it, in fact he found it a ridiculous thing, his reputation. Though he himself followed most rules to a T, he felt that the rules of society to be to suffocating. He never followed them, and dash all who dared criticize him for it. So, no he didn't care for his reputation, he could be seen as so many things by public, to a genius to a madman, and he knew that this would keep happening for a long time. But Olivia was young, and he knew younger people tended to say they didn't care, but in reality they really did care. He couldn't risk her being hurt, so the least time she stayed in his flat the better. He did hate to turn her away though. He nodded to her comment after a moment, hating that his mind had wandered off, again. Basil also deiced to answer the rest of her questions, feeling that now would be the best time to do so.

"My dear young lady, I in no way find you ditzy, and I feel that you are completely serious in these matters. And yes...You will be evaluated to be my... Mine and Dawson's that is, partner. On our next case your more than welcome to tag along... Purely to observe, of course." as he spoke he kept a careful eye on Olivia, seeing as her eyes sparkled, and how she was simply _**oozing **_happiness.

Though he did become slightly wary when he said for her to only observe, because for what he could tell by that darn glint in her eyes, she would do anything in her power to make sure she did more than that.

"Thank you. Basil, you really don't know how much this means to me." she said, beaming at him.

Basil was once again stunned by the fact that she wasn't a little girl. In all the years he hadn't seen her, every time he thought of her he would picture that small little mouse that had annoyed him so much. He had come to love her in the short time he had known her, and to see her so grown up, and not to mention so different made him feel strange. Part of him though her to be a completely different person, that reminded him if only briefly of Olivia. Another part of him mourned the fact that he was getting old. It was a rather sobering thought, that he really already was twenty six.

He was interrupted from his musing when he heard a knock at the door, and out of pure habit he scrambled up, fixing his attire and noting faintly that Olivia was hot on his heels as he opened the door. He held back a very loud groan at the sight of the mice on his front porch.

Dawson was one of them, holding his companion's hand, looking slightly sheepish as he looked on at Basil, apologizes sparkling in his dark eyes. His companion spoke, her soft voice steady, and highly amused at Basil never failing reaction to her;

"So, where is this Olivia girl my David won't stop talking about?"

Olivia felt curiosity fill her at the woman's words, and wondered if this was the ever mysterious Genevieve. She raised her hand, if a little timidly. As the woman's light blue eyes caught her's, Olivia felt something click, and found herself liking the woman in an instant, remembering that she had managed to make Basil afraid of her. Though the next words that came out of the woman's mouth made her want to slam her head against something.

"Oooooh! You are so precious, just like a doll!" screamed the woman, running up to Olivia and giving her a kiss squarely on the cheek, beaming.

Olivia smiled back in return, letting the doll comment slid just this once, because she felt that she and this woman would be great friends. Basil, on the other hand felt dread fill him at the sight of both Olivia's and Genevieve's sparkling eyes, already fast friends. He had a feeling that his life would become very troublesome indeed with the two of them together, and suppressed another groan.


	7. Pleasantries

**Chapter Six: Pleasantries**

Somehow, once again Basil found himself not in his favorite armchair, but instead leaning against it, sipping his earl gray quietly, enjoying the slight tang and sourness of the lemon Mrs. Judson had so kindly squeeze in for him, knowing that he preferred his earl gray with a little flavor to it. He also nibbled slightly moodily on his cheese crumpet, savoring the almost spicy taste and enjoying the way how it simply crumbled in his mouth. He wished to be in his chair, but the look of complete comfort on Olivia's face made him know that he would never be as rude as to ask a young lady to leave her seat, he was a gentleman after all.

She was chattering with Genevieve, or Genevieve was chattering while Olivia put in some input once in a while. She was such a quiet person, now that he thought about it, and only ever spoke when she felt the need. It was rather similar to the little girl all those years ago, he thought to himself, she had been quiet then too, and communicated more with her actions than words. It made him feel strangely relieved, that not everything had changed about her. He half listened to Genevieve Dawson's voice, raised in anger;

"OH! Now, my dear Miss. Flaversham, please you must understand, it is of the utmost importance that you understand! You must allow me to shop with you, I insistence that you let me take you out on the town! I know the loveliest little shop, with the most gorgeous hats-"

"No hats. I do not like hats Mrs. Dawson, I only own one, and it shall remain like that." interrupted Olivia, shaking her head firmly.

To Basil it looked as if Genevieve was on the edge of having some sort of mad fit, and her elegant long elegant fingers reached up to touch the large, violet hat that was perched on her head. It occurred to Basil, as he watched Genevieve look more and more appalled by Olivia's lack of adoration toward hats, that maybe they wouldn't be so fast friends after all. And that young Olivia could wind up pretty much anyone, with that sharp wit and sliver tongue of her's.

Dawson, he noted, was looking on at the pair of young woman with fondness, and he was sipping his own earl gray with peacefulness shining in his dark eyes. He had long known that Dawson had gotten deeply attached to Olivia, and he was not surprised by the large amount of delight that Dawson was radiating in the girl's presence. Mrs. Judson was simply over the moon, and even the ever snobbish Genevieve had taken a liking toward the girl. He had to admit, that he too, was delighted to have her around. And, as long as he was being honest to himself, there was a strange sense of rightness to see her in his parlor, sitting in his chair(though he thought she would look better in the green chair, not the red), and in his home having tea.

It was so odd, he mused after another deep sip of his tea, that after so many years, and after changing into this strange, yet familiar girl, Olivia Fafflehedd could fit into their lives so easily. Into _**his**_ chaotic life so easily! It was as if... As if a special niche had formed for her the second that faithful case had been over. As if all of them had just been waiting for the chance for her to come back and fill it, the second she had left, all those years ago. He, unbeknownst to him, formed a very, soft, and unconscious smile, at the thought, being truly happy that she was back.

No one noticed this soft and gentle smile, so different from his usual sneers, forced and slightly manic smiles, save for Olivia, who saw it from the corner of her eyes. Everyone though, including the Basil, who was still trapped in the inner workings of his genius mind, noticed the equally gentle, equally soft, yet somehow more radiant answering smile that formed on Olivia's lips. She too, like Dawson, noticed Basil with a small start, looked at peace in his home. It made him feel incredibly warm at the thought.

Mrs. Judson came in some time later, her expression serene as she looked over the empty platter of crumpets, and the empty tea cups. Basil knew that she loved it when her food was consumed, and each time she saw the tea cups and plates empty, her always harassed face would look slightly more at peace. It was why he took great pains to eat as much as he could, and only broke this silent promise when he was on a case. He was torn out of his musing when Mrs. Judson tsked sharply, her head shaking slightly as she gathered the dishes, and dismissed Olivia's move to help her.

"Mr. Basil, what in heaven's name are you doing copped up, on a fine day, such as this?" Mrs. Judson inquired, her lips twitching downwards in displeasure.

Basil quirked his eyebrow at her, face slightly questioning her .

"I dare say Mrs. Judson, I am, in all accounts I have just finished with my lovely morning tea, and ready to have small talk with my companions. What do you propose, my dear Mrs. Judson, we do instead, on as you say, a fine day such as this?" Basil asked her, voice slightly curious.

Mrs. Judson seemed pleased by his question, and gestured toward the door with a pointed look on her face.

"Go for a walk, it's a fine summer day, and I dare say that Olivia must feel a little lost in London now? It has been eight years since she's been here, why don't you all go for a little stroll and get her re-familiarized with city?" retorted Mrs. Judson, a slight smug smile on her lips.

Basil frowned a little at her tone, and had the sneaking suspicion that Mrs. Judson just wanted them out of the house, so she could clean his parlor, as she always did when he left the house in a none case matter. As much as he hated to admit, he knew that he was a bit of a slob, at least when it came to his parlor. It was his work space after all, and he liked it the way it was. He knew where everything was. Unfortunately for him, Dawson answered Mrs. Judson question:

"Splendid idea Mrs. Judson! Splendid! What do you say Gene? Up for a little stroll around London?" said Dawson happily, turning to his wife.

Genevieve seemed to think for a moment, before she turned to her husband with an sinister gleam in her eye.

"A wonderful idea, I shall take Miss. Flaversham to that hat shop, it will simply won't due for her to own one!" she said happily to her husband, already plotting to what Olivia would buy, or if she refused, she would buy for her.

Olivia felt the blood leave her face at the look in Genevieve Dawson's eye. She groaned and her head dropped into her hands, because she knew that look. She had seen it many of times on her friend Lenora's face. She wondered briefly if it wasn't to late to go back to Scotland and simply doge the bullet of getting a hat. It wasn't her fault that she disliked them, she just did! They always got in the way, and she had already gotten in plenty of trouble for wearing them in her earlier detective days. She didn't care if they were popular, those damn things had almost cost her her life more than once! Though, if she was honest to herself, she would not mind getting a hat like Basil's... She wondered what he would think of that...Olivia sat up straighter as she felt something, or really someone pat her back. She took her head out of her hands to see Basil looking down at her with a smile.

"Don't worry Miss. Flafferheffer, we'll escape Genevieve and run off on our own before we get to that blasted hat shop. Last time she dragged Dawson and I there we had been stuck there for hours... I shall not let you live that horror..." he whispered to her out of the corner of his mouth, giving her a quick wink.

Olivia laughed, eyes sparkling with mischievous. She mouthed a quick thank you, and Flaversham toward Basil, making sure not to alert the still chattering away Genevieve, as she knew if she got any indication of this plan she would not be very pleased at all. Maybe a little stroll would not be to terrible if she got to run off with her hero. She turned toward the Dawsons, and decided to voice her consent:

"I rather like to have a little walk around London. It's a very good idea to get me more familiarized with the city again." she said with a smile.

Genevieve beamed, while Doctor Dawson smiled gently, and Mrs. Judson got a strange and frantic gleam in her eye. Basil, though wary of Mrs. Judson plans, decided to go ahead with the whole thing. If he and Olivia did indeed run off together to escape the rather horrid hat shop, that meant that he had the perfect opportunity to question her further on her dealings as a detective. He, if he was perfectly honest with himself, wanted to compare notes on being a detective at such a young age.

He had started when he was fifteen himself, when his then friend Ratigan, had gone through that fateful turn to the evil side of things. He had sought tirelessly for three long years against him, trying to get him back. If he was honest, after the second year, in which Ratigan had murdered his parents, he had given up on just simply getting back a friend. The last year of seeking had been a bitter way of avenging his parents deaths. But, at the age of eighteen... Well, a little annoying girl had come and bothered him, hadn't she? Wanting him to find her father... He smiled a fondly at the though, because of that little girl he had made sure his parent's death hadn't gone unanswered...

"Er, Basil?" asked a feminine voice drenched in a musical Scottish lit.

Basil was jerked out his remembrances as Olivia placed a hand on his shoulder. He was quite surprised to find that she had her hat on her head, and that both the Dawsons were already at the door, one of them tapping her high healed boot rather impatiently, the other waited quite patiently, as they were a little more used to his occasional drifting away. He smiled a little embarrassingly at Olivia, as well, she surly wasn't use to his rather strange behavior as much as Dawson, or as much as Genevieve should be use to it. To his surprise she smiled back, and linked her arm through his.

"We should be heading out shouldn't we? You have to show me how much my dear London has changed in the past eight years." said Olivia pleasantly seemingly not at all bothered by his behavior.

Basil simply nodded his consent. He lead Olivia to his hook, slipped out of his home coat, and into a coat that he did not use for his detective cases, a black one that fit him rather well if he was honest to himself. He also slipped on a black top hat, knowing that his deerstalker would not be the best for a simple stroll around London. He re-offered his arm to Olivia, as he was the only one around to do so, and she accepted it without a thought. Linked together by their arms, they stepped up to the door, following Genevieve and Dawson outside.

"Goodbye Mrs. Judson!" called out Olivia, waving with her spare hand toward the motherly mouse.

Mrs. Judson waved as well, a smile on her harassed face, and a still sinister gleam in her eyes. Basil, terrified at what state he would find his parlor in before he came back, decided to make sure it would stay the way it was:

"Do not clean the parlor Mrs. Judson, that's an order!" he said somewhat squeakily toward the woman that had been by his side since childhood.

Mrs. Judson gave a small huff, and shut the door. The party outside still heard her mutter somewhat disappointingly behind the door:

"Oh bugger... I hoped he forget to say that..."

They all laughed, Olivia the most of all. Basil caught the rather joyful expression on her face, and blinked as he felt the oddest sensation hit him, a warm tingling sensation that started in his toes, and traveled all the way up his body. He felt unbelievably warm, and he knew somewhere in his mind that it had nothing to do with the warm day. He, unbeknownst to himself, was flushed, and grinning like a mad man at Olivia, as she was happy. He didn't know that that fact made him happy as well.

**~()~**

The figure, as it turned out, had spent the night in the bushes of Baker street. As always, he felt stiff, but less stiff than what he had felt when he had spent his days in the sewers. He caught a glimpse of the party of four, and smiled thinly at the objects of his revenge. The looked... Oh. So. Happy. They laughed and chatted walking away from the flat. He had heard every word they had spoken just moments before inside, as he had been near one of the open windows, crouched down. He smiled, this time wider as he waited for the group of idiots to leave, as he couldn't very well leave himself with them here, though he supposed the look on their faces would be rather delicious, indeed. But, he had planned and perfected the night before, and he knew exactly what he was going to do to Basil... And the girl, while he was at it. The girl...

He frowned slightly. He hadn't seen the girl properly the night before, and seeing her now, he felt faint regret. She was rather pretty, and it was a shame that he had to mar that pretty little face. But.. He suppose maybe he didn't have to, that maybe he could find something else to do to her... But, then he caught the look on Basil's face. He was looking directly at the girl, with the most gentlest, and the most damnable look on his face that it took all the figure's will power not to laugh. It seemed that he hadn't been the only one to notice the girl's beauty as well. Hmm... He knew that he could use that to his advantage. He smirked at the thought, and mused that he just loved the way his wicked mind worked. It had just gave him good wicked thought after wicked thought...

As the party of unknowing imbeciles left, the figure stood up, and decided to go visit a dear old friend of Basil, deciding not to do anything about the girl just yet, and to stick to his plan. He could fit her into his scream any time, at the moment he needed to find a Mister Johnathan Taylor.

**AN: Okay, okay, I first like to say I'm sooooo sorry that I didn't update in...TWO MONTHS, Oh, holy mother of cow I'M SORRY! … If anyone of you are wondering I just checked it... Hhehe. Anyway, I hope you all like it, and I'm sorry if this chapter was kinda dry, but, well, I needed it to be a kinda filler before the good stuff comes out. I have to say that I'm not sure when I will update, as well, I have like ten other fics to worry about... But, I'll try to update as soon as possible. And I'm soo sorry this is pretty short... Oh and I don't own this, no matter how much I'd love review if you can bring yourself to do so! **


	8. John Doe

**Chapter Seven: John Doe**

As the figure delicately adjusted the lapel of his newly acquired fine and velvet suit, he glared at his reflection in the somewhat shattered mirror with utmost concentration, examining himself and comparing his new reflection to the the one of eight years ago. He was unhappy to note that he looked nothing more than as the hunchback of the famed Notre Dame would have looked if he suddenly were to dress in fine clothes... He scoffed at himself after a moment, because surly someone such as himself would never fall to that level of hideousness! He examined himself again, and took stock of his somewhat disfigured form with a much more kinder light.

His face was scarred to only a minor degree, he was somewhat pleased to note. A few scar lines around here and there, a long jagged one that started in the utmost left of his forehead and ran the length of the back of his head. And of course the two that stretched at the utmost edge of his mouth, which made him appear to be smiling or sneering, which he was more prone to do, at all times, even when he wasn't. It made him look a tad mad, which he subconsciously knew was quite true. His body, just like his face, was only scarred to a somewhat miraculously minor degree. His left arm now had the tendency to bent at an angle that wasn't possible before, if he didn't pay close attention to control it. He still stood to a rather tall degree, if not a little taller than before, as he _**had **_aged some eight years, but he knew it wasn't to his fullest potential, as well, his spine had been forced to his right side when he had fell onto the cobblestone streets below Big Ben, with a rather painful _**snap**_, if he recalled right. He had lost his right leg, much to his fury, and in its stead or _**had **_been in its stead a pathetic rotten piece of driftwood he had found after the family that had found him had nursed him somewhat back to health, in which he had...

Well, it was somewhat blurry to what exactly he had done to them. But he remembered a fair amount of red, which he assumed was blood, and a fire if he was correct. He had a large scar of a burn on his long and other wised unmarred tail, to confirm this. He paused a bit from this memory, trying to figure out what he had been thinking about before that... AH! Yes, he thought with a slightly broken sneer, his right leg, or really the space where his right leg should be. Instead of the drift wood, he had exchanged it for a somewhat expensive cane, in which he had flipped backwards and had attached to what was left over of his leg with a few spare strips of a sheet he had found. The bottom half of the cane had been elegantly placed into the fine and small shoe, along with a few spare socks to keep it from shifting _**too **_much. It was somewhat makeshift, and not too stable, but he knew it would have to do for the time being, before he could gather up some of his dear old friends, and execute the next step of his plan, which he knew that would render that pretty little Pandora of his sobbing...

He smirked and sneered at that delicious thought, and went back to examining the perfection that was himself. He was still broad, and a little brutish as he had been eight years ago, to his ever delight. He hadn't found himself ever hungry in the sewers, as well as plenty of water, no matter how putrid it had been. He, really was in excellent health, despite the odds. He wasn't the perfection that he had been before, but, in all honesty, a new type of perfection. He was broken from his very self centered and vain musings, by a harsh, and very noticeable shattered breath behind him, followed by a very loud crash, which by the sound of it, sounded like the all too familiar tinkling of breaking glass.

He turned around with an easy, yet somewhat painful grace. He smirked smugly as he took in the scene before him, and laughed his maniacal laugh, ever so pleased at the work that his now clean claws had done. Yet, still, a little surprise filled him, as this was most unexpected.

"My dear Mister Johnathan Taylor, I am ever surprised, how on earth did you managed to survive my little bit of fun?" he said in a delicate tone, inspecting his now gloved paws with care.

Mister Johnathan Taylor, or Johnny as most knew him as, simply took a a ragged breath at the figure's comment, and struggled to lift the broken vase with his bloodied paws, as to throw it at him. But he found, much to his dismay, he simply couldn't, as he didn't have the strength in his once very strong and muscular arms. Instead, with as much dignity as he could in his rather pitiful condition, he pulled once again at the table cloth that he had used to pull the now discarded vase down to him to put pressure on the worst of his wounds, somehow knowing in his mind that it was futile, but still wanting to cling to his life with the most that he had, after all, he didn't_** want**_ to die. He was young, and madly in love with his wife, Anna, and had two children, Ben and Richy. He didn't want to leave his wife a widow, or to leave his children fatherless, especially at the hands of this mad man, but he knew he really had little choice. He felt and saw the puddle of crimson blood, _**his **_blood, get steadily and rapidly bigger, and he felt the pain of his now shredded face and body. He knew he really didn't have much time, and it didn't exactly anger him, more than make him feel incredibly sad. He was going to die, and he knew that the darkness gathering in his eyes had nothing to do with the light that consequently filled his marriage room at the moment.

"Why?" he suddenly rasped to the figure, as he wanted to know at least that much before he went into the arms of God.

The figure chuckled down at him, smiling his rather twisted sneer with a great showing of his rather sharp teeth. He slipped off one of 'his' pristine white gloves to reveal his large, and deadly claws, and simply gripped at Johnny's bloody, and unrecognizable face. The motion sent a shiver down the large and burly mouse's spin, much to the figure's growing delight. Moving his lips toward the dieing mouse's ears with a mocking little kiss, he told him why exactly he had rendered him to this:

"Because... You know Basil, don't you? You were his friend when we went to school together, weren't you Mister Johnathan? You became friends with that pathetic excuse for a mouse. Didn't you Johnny boy? You were his friend, and because of that, my dear Johnny, you will die..." whispered the figure with a voice that was soft, yet potent and deadly to the utmost degree.

With that little speech, Johnny pulled in another pitiful breath, glaring up at the figure with the utmost hate.

"Bastard... Basil... will..." whispered the dieing mouse with the utmost fury and hatred he could muster in his state.

The figure laughed at him, a true, mad and frightening laugh that made Johnny shiver violently, and feel even more terrified, though not for himself as he knew no more could be done to him, but for his friend, Basil.

"My dear simple minded Johnny boy, I fully intended for Basil to know it was me who did this... In fact, old boy, it's what I hope to happen... Of course, he won't think its me at first, as well, I am suppose to be dead..." said the figure in a matter of fact tone, his smooth voice making Johnny cringed with every one of his eloquent words.

Johnny hoped with all of his slowing heart that Basil would pull through this, and not fall into this mad man's trap. With something like a gurgled sigh, Johnny knew that he was going to die, as he could feel it, and he embraced the peacefulness oblivion that was death with nothing more than another sigh, though, this sigh came with a single, softly and weakly spoken name, the name that had given him everything he had loved in the past decade.

"Anna..." came out Johnny's voice with the weakest of whimpers yet still drenched in the love that had filled his now non-beating heart.

And then he was gone, his once lively and light eyes growing flat. The figure, with a another chuckle, quickly dropped the body that had been Johnathan Taylor with no dignity. He then took off his other glove with his teeth, as to not get it dirty, and tucked it into his pocket. He wrapped up the carcase in the table cloth that he had clung to, and then did the same with the quilt on the bed. Then, with the utmost ease, despite the rather large mass of it, lifted it onto his shoulder, careful not mar his suit with the filth that was seeping through the quilt. With a graceful leap, he reached the window, his earlier means of entry, and then took a quick glance around himself. He sneered, enjoying the gore and mess he had left behind. With a quick pat to the mass over his shoulder, the figure laughed out:

"Thank you for the fun... And the suit Johnny old boy!" with a rather fond tone in his voice, and rather mad gleam in his bloodshot eyes.

He took his leave with another graceful leap, his laughter ringing out even louder when he heard the sudden scream from the room he had just exited.

**~()~**

"We finally got away!" breathed Olivia Flaversham with a gasp, laughing as her hands rested on her knees, as she was bent over, and was exhausted from the rather long run that had just occurred.

To her right, a rather breathless and laughing Basil couldn't even reply, as he was to winded. It amazed him that he could even stand up right, though he supposed that was largely due to the fact that he was supported by the brick wall behind him. He was even more amazed at the fact, that the younger mouse beside him could run so fast, and be less winded than _**him**_, as he took great pride in being in shape. It did not help his ego at all in the fact that she had shorter legs than him, or that she was hindered by her large bustle dress. Nonetheless, Basil enjoyed the fact that she had caught on to his rather subtle hint of him tugging on her elbow, which had lead to a quick glance, and a nod. It amazed him that she had subtly also arranged her dress in a way to allow freer movement, by using the excuse of getting over a stray puddle. She _**had**_ run so incredibly fast, that they had left a howling Genevieve behind rather quickly, much to both their pleasure.

"The look on Mrs. Genevieve's face!" giggled Olivia after a moment, straightening and shifting the skirt of her dress back to its normal, proper state.

Basil couldn't hold back a chuckle at that, as well, the look of complete fury and surprise on Genevieve's face had been rather priceless, and he had felt much more love to his photographic memory, as it would allow him to _**never**_ forget it. Though he did suppose it was a pity that he hadn't been able to take a picture of it, as it was more solid proof, and maybe a little leverage toward the woman, as well, frankly she never failed to terrify him.

"Rather humorous wasn't it?" he said to Olivia after a moment, because he finally had breath to respond.

He also adjusted his coat and top hat, which had gone askew during the run, straightening it with care, and making sure that not a thing was out of place. Olivia looked at him, blue eyes sparkling and an easy smile coming onto her lips.

"Extremely." she responded to him, another giggle coming to her, reminding him that it was rather similar to what it had sounded like eight years ago.

He offered her his arm, as any gentleman would, and she took it without a second of thought, her spare arm arranging her hair with care, as it was looking a little wild. It amazed Basil that after only a few well placed movements not a strand of hair was out of place, nor did her hat look at all askew. They walked in silence for a moment, both pondering what exactly to say to each other. Both were suddenly nervous, as well, one was finally next to their idol and inspiration for the past eight years, and the other had no idea what to make of the _**grown**_ self of someone they had met as a child, and had cared for deeply, even if their meeting had been brief. Basil himself thought back to what he had thought in his parlor, and had to ask:

"When did you start being a detective?" he blurted this out rather suddenly, green eyes sparkling rather curiously.

Olivia herself could only at first in surprise at the question, as well, she never imagined Basil of all people taking interest into her career. But, strangely, she felt a little blossom of happiness bloom in her, as she was rather pleased that he was asking.

"When I was eight, right after I arrived in Scotland." she said to Basil, a tiny smile playing upon her lips.

Basil blinked, astonished that at such a young and tender age she had taken up the role of a detective. And so soon after meeting him! He took this information in silence and ready himself to ask the next question, already eager to learn more, when he was interrupted by Olivia.

"When did you start being a detective?" she asked eyes sparkling with her own curiosity.

Basil frowned, as it wasn't the best memory of his life, becoming a detective. But, by the look in Olivia's eyes, he knew he had to answer... Besides, he did want to compare notes with her...

"When I was fifteen, a dear friend of mine turned to the bad side of things, and I vowed never to let him get away with it, so I became a detective, without really realizing it... I also wished for him to come back I suppose... But that never happened..." said Basil fury evident in his voice and eyes far away.

Olivia only had to look at his bitter and furious face to know exactly who that '_**dear**_' friend had been.

"It was Ratigan, wasn't it?" she asked him gently, her own eyes filled with a burning hatred toward the damn rat that had taken her daddy.

Basil looked down at Olivia with surprise, as he hadn't thought that she would have guessed the name, much less correctly. But, as he looked into her wisdom filled eyes he suddenly knew he wasn't going to make that mistake again, because Olivia was clearly a very intelligent young woman. He didn't know why, but that thought made him extremely proud of her, and somewhat smug. He, unbeknownst to himself, puffed out his chest a little.

"Yes it was him... But, enough of old tales that have no matter of importance! Why don't you tell me why you started being a detective?" Basil said after another moment of simply walking, turning to look down at Olivia.

Olivia seemed to think for a second, a furrow appearing on her brows, and a frown on her lips.

"It was because I didn't want to feel helpless." she said slowly, her frown deepening.

Basil only felt confusion, and turned to Olivia with a raise of one of his eyebrows.

"Pardon?" he asked.

Olivia blushed, looking away and unwrapping her arm from Basil, which in turn made Basil feel like a puppy who had been denied a treat. He watched her walk deliberately faster than him, her shorter legs making impressively big strides, as if she wanted to be anywhere but there with him. She suddenly stopped, her back to him, and she seemed to refuse to turn around. He stopped as well, waiting, just waiting for her to answer him.

"When I was in that bottle, when Ratigan took me to Big Ben, I felt so incredibly helpless. I can only dangle there, or pound at the glass and _**wait**_. I couldn't do anything at all... But you Basil..." Whispered Olivia turning around swiftly with a haunted and old look in her eyes.

Basil felt something grow cold at the look in her deep blue eyes. She was only sixteen, not quite an adult, yet clearly not a child. But the look in her eyes... It was the look that he could see in his own eyes at times, the look of someone that had seen so much. The look of someone that could never really stop seeing what others couldn't. It was a look that even most adults couldn't claim to have. The look of wisdom gained through pain.

"You were incredible strong and not at all helpless. Even after your little breakdown, you pulled through and saved the day. I thought.. Well...I thought that if I became a detective as well that I wouldn't feel helpless either That _**I **_would be the strong one... Silly aren't I?" whispered Olivia, her hand coming up to tug at her hair, which he quickly deduced was a nervous habit.

Basil took a good look at the young woman before him. It was strange that she would find herself silly. From what he could gather on the papers he had read just last night, she was an incredible detective, and not to mention, seemed to be hero worshiped in the town she had lived in. She wasn't that silly little girl that didn't even come up to waist, not anymore. He could clearly see that, as well, though he saw small glimpses of that little girl, this young woman in front of the, the witty young woman that had a knack for arguing with him it seemed, was not that silly eight year old girl. She was not that Olivia, she was this Olivia in front of him. He found, with mild surprise, that he liked this Olivia, truly. And that she was not, of all things _**silly**_.

"Not in the least." he said quite firmly, a smile on his lips as he once again offered his arm to her.

She took it, like before, without a second of hesitation, a shy, but beaming smile on her lips at his words. They walked, somehow now finding exactly what to say each other, the awkwardness forgotten as they discussed several cases, as well as techniques. Both were surprised, and even more surprised as they found themselves arguing. One, more keen to stay more focused on using their sheer intelligence to solve a case, versus the other's method of keenly focusing on the facts, as well as using a heavy reliance on their intuition, which seemed to the first to contradict itself. The first argued that intuition is simply a form of intelligence and that the facts were just something to prove that type of intelligence, and to help you solve the case, not solve the case in their own right! The other mouse, in this case Olivia scoffed at Basil's sheer naive attitude. Basil, at this comment, couldn't help but bristle.

"Naive? NAIVE? My dear young lady, whatever has given you the impression that I, Basil of Baker street, am in any way naive?" said Basil his fur seemingly puffing up along with his rising anger.

Olivia Flaversham always prided herself in being a rather mature person, but at Basil's rather dramatic antics, could not help but roll her eyes in true teenage fashion. And give a purposely unladylike snort. Because, really, even Louis could act more mature than Basil at times, at that friend of her's never seemed ever to act with a mentality higher than a toddler's. Which, in her opinion gave Basil a infant mentality... At times of course...

"Well, I suppose Basil, maybe naive is not the best word... Do you prefer narrow-minded?" quipped Olivia with another roll of her large, expressive eyes.

Basil gave a rather in-masculine pout.

"You wound me, Miss. Feffer-Shiver!" screamed out Basil with a loud sniff, his nose in the air.

This time, Olivia just chose to put her foot down quite literally, because really, she was tired of all the misnaming nonsense, with a mind like Basil, her name should be easy to remember... But oh, no! It was all this Miss. Flannger-Hanger that and other rubbish like that. It was enough to make a normal mouse go mad! Basil let out a soft yelp as Olivia's heel made contact with his foot, much to her satisfaction. For once, Olivia was glad to have female shoes, because it seemed that maybe heels really did make themselves useful once in a while.

"Flaversham." intoned Olivia dryly while Basil hopped rather ungracefully on one foot, rubbing the sore with with a spare hand.

Her raised his emerald eyes at her, narrowed of course. His mouth was set in a fierce scowl, and he curse feminine footwear to the gates of hell under his breath, amusing Olivia to no end that he thought he couldn't hear him cursing under his breath.

"Whatever!" snapped Basil after a moment of more hopping, the scowl still seemingly glued to his face.

Olivia felt a stab enter her at the look on his face. Heat flooded to her cheeks because she had acted so brutish to Basil. That was a kind of behavior she left for her boys back at home... She sighed, and quickly shook herself from that, she didn't want to miss those two clumsily knuckleheads at the moment, she needed to apologize...

"Basil I'm sorry." said Olivia very softly, touching his shoulder with a light paw that made him blink at it.

He looked at it for the briefest moment, wondering at the fact that it looked so small. He then looked at the the very flushed and shamed faced Olivia, whose eyes begged for forgiveness. A forgiveness that Basil couldn't help but give.

"I'm quite alright..." he said, nodding and giving her smile, holding back a wince when he moved his foot.

Olivia smiled at him, making him grateful that he had forgiven her so easily. She paused, looking at him with those blue eyes of her's, before those very eyes sparkled with sudden light, making him almost see the gears turning in her head.

"I have the perfect solution to your little forgetfulness of my surname!" she said excitedly in a whisper, as if she was going to tell him a very great secret.

Despite himself, Basil leaned in to hear more when her hands cupped over his left ear, she on her tippy toes as she did. Her, breath, he was quite surprised to learn was somewhat cold, yet gentle as she took small even breaths. Through the air he could almost feel her smile, before she whispered out:

"Just call me Olivia." in the softest of voices, yet still seemingly very loud to him.

Basil suppressed shivering at that. He also blinked in surprise, because he never really though of calling her just Olivia... At least, out loud, as well, he always called her that in his mind... It just seemed so odd indeed to call her something (out loud) other than Miss-... Miss... Miss... Oh, well bugger it muttered Basil in mind. He turned toward her, and smiled politely.

"Olivia it is then." he said with a nod of his head.

She smiled at him. Before that smile turned into a gaping mouth of horror. Her face, he noticed with growing alarm, had paled to a point that he thought quite impossible to happen. But, really the evidence was in her face that it was possible...

"Oh the poor soul..." she mumbled her Scottish lit coming in full force in her sadness.

Basil could only blink once in surprise at the strange comment, before Olivia lifted up her skirt, much like before, only, to his much embarrassment, even higher. She then sped past him without another word, her steps as always graceful and hardly making a sound, despite the rather loud sound her boots could have made. Basil spun around, curious to see what had Olivia running toward, only to hold back a scream at the sight that met his emerald eyes.

In a otherwise unassuming alley lay a touch of gore that made his heart ache to whoever this had been done to. A large mouse, what he amused to be a male, was sprawled rather inelegantly on the cobblestones, a spare blood stained cloth was spread with some care underneath him, which made Basil get on alert rather quickly. What ever happened, it hadn't happen in the alley, because other than a small radius around the mouse, not a single thing marred the alley. He was surprised at Olivia, with the skirt of her dress expertly arranged, crouched near the mouse with a quite calm expression, completely opposite to the earlier look of horror. Her small paw, which had been on his shoulder only moments before, was covered in a glove, and two of her small and nimble fingers was placed on the mouse's neck. After a moment, she frowned, before her fingers moved to the mouse's wrist. Then, again, she frowned again, bowing her head rather quickly, as in respect, before looking around herself with keen eyes, not moving and what seemed to be not breathing as well.

"Olivia?" he asked worrying for the worst, as she made no move to help the mouse that looked rather hurt.

She frowned, the only thing about her rather stiff movements showing any emotion at all, and she shook her head. Before sighing tiredly and getting up with care, as to not disturb the mess of gore around her.

"Basil, go fetch a bobby... This man is... He... Well, he isn't alive Basil... And from the looks of it, it was not on accident... We've just stumbled onto a murder scene." said Olivia with obvious sadness in her voice, though nothing showed in her body language or face.

"Alight right, come on, your not staying here..." said Basil, trying to lead away the remarkably calm young woman.

She shook her head, not allowing herself to be lead away.

"Someone has to stay with him, and I've sent you Basil, just go..." said Olivia, with a small frown.

Basil copied and surpassed her frown with a fierce scowl.

"I am not leaving a young lady alone where a murder has just occurred." he said with a bite in his voice.

That comment finally got a little emotion from Olivia, as she stepped quite quickly forward, fire in her deep blue eyes. She glared up to him, her neck staring as he was rather tall, but somehow managing all the same.

"Of all the insulting, chauvinistic things you could say Basil of Baker street never, ever, tell me you refuse to leave me alone because of my_** gender**_, or age!" she said with a wrath in her voice.

Basil mouth fell down in horror. But, then, he scowled right back at her, finger pointed straight in her face.

"Olivia, it is not a matter of gender or age, I simply meant that I will not leave you alone where a murder has just taken place, where the murderer could be nearby!" he said with the same wrath in his voice.

Olivia merely scowled deeper.

"I can handle myself Basil. Now go get that bobby!" she said in a much calmer tone, though her eyes still blazed with fire.

Basil was about to reply when a sudden screech of anger behind him. Both he and Olivia turned to see a almost foaming at the mouth Genevieve, and a rather harassed looking Dawson right next to her. Olivia and Basil both froze at the approaching woman, who looked ready for battle. Olivia, though took one glance behind her and stepped forward, palms out and a look of utmost seriousness on her youthful features.

"Mrs. Genevieve, please, at the moment it wouldn't be prudent for you to be upset with Basil and I, we've stumbled onto something that is quite serious... Please, if you would could you go find a bobby and bring him here?" she said in a pleading tone.

To his surprise Genevieve listened to Olivia, nodding sharply, her somewhat youthful face looking alarmed as Olivia turned to Dawson.

"Doctor, I believe that you are needed inside the alley, please." she said to Dawson gesturing to the alley.

Dawson nodded grimly, and walked into the alley without another word. All of them heard his loud gasp, as well as the soft prayer that was uttered from his lips. Without protest, Genevieve moved to leave, before she paused and turned to Olivia, worry obvious in her face.

"What should I tell the bobby has occurred?" she said brows tilting up with so much sadness and worry.

Olivia frowned for a moment, as if in thought before she replied:

"Tell him that we have a John Doe." responded the small mouse, quiet and soft sadness showing in her voice.

Without another word, Genevieve left. It was in that moment that it occurred to Basil that this wasn't the first murder scene that Olivia had witnessed. For the oddest reason, Basil mourned her innocence, and wondered just how much the young Olivia had really seen.

**An: Okay, Okay, so I have a somewhat twisted mind, don't I? Sigh... Anyway, I like to thank Masked Mouse for giving me some inspiration, as well for giving my a good kick in the rear as to where the story will go... Oh, and thanks for letting me vent out some of the stories aspects. Oh,, and I also like to thank my sister, for loving this story so much that she bugged my every day to finish this chapter. Thank you as well to anyone who has reviewed this story as well, you people keep this story going!**

**Oh and I don't own The Great Mouse Detective, sadly. **


	9. A Rather Annoying Bobby

**A Rather Annoying Bobby**

Doctor David Q. Dawson was a military man through and through, as well as his own family. His father had served in the military, and so had his grandfather. And his father. He himself had spent a good fourteen or so years in the military, at first as a simple foot-solider, planing to be just as his paternal side of the family and rise through the ranks to become a Sargent or maybe even go as far as being a General... But though as a young man he had thought of glory and the like, and had fully never understood his character then... When he had seen a young and fellow solider get hit by a renegade grenade... With no surgeon available, his friend had lost his leg and tail, and had never been the same since... It was then that Dawson had noted the lack of Doctors in general, and had felt aghast... He had worked mercilessly from then on, and had then he had earned his degree in medicine, had turned into a surgeon, in fact.

He had a seen his fair share of horrors and he had seen death happen far to often in his regiments, either as a solider, or as a Doctor. Either of the horrors or deaths had been caused by illness or some other small squabble between his fellow comrades and the local people in his stay in Afghan provinces... He _**was **_a surgeon after all, and his work was one of the bloodiest doctor kinds by simple trade. But even living through those type of horrors he couldn't help but want to expose his breakfast to his fellow companions when he caught sight of the poor mouse which Olivia and Basil had found. It was even worse than the man with the grenade, because though damaged, that mouse had survived and had lived on, and to this day Dawson wrote letters to the Irish man... But... This...

It was a complete and utter massacre, a complete disregard for mouse life, really for life and decorum in general, and he knew right then and there that whoever had done this was a complete, and utter monster, with just a large bit of sadistic tendencies, if he could take an estimation... A rather good estimation, in his own rather humble and slightly queasy opinion. The amount of wounds alone made him wince in both sympathy and disgust... The disgust was not at the actual body, though that did increase his flinch to the slightest degree, but at the actual sheer monstrosity and disregard of pity the murderer had had for his poor victim..

David Dawson was a gentle man by nature, and though his professions as both a detective, military man and a surgeon seemed to disagree with his nature, it was something that he could live with, it was something he did as a service to his dear country. It was something he did to keep those with gentler nature and those in pain or need to be safe, and to give them any aid he could... But... This type of brutality was even something that he could not handle, even if it was for the sake of discovering who this poor chap was, he really couldn't bring himself to look at the body... Or John Doe, as Olivia had called him, for very long. Dawson wanted so desperately to leave, and to take his companions away the second he could... He wasn't this type of doctor, he had shakily told the solemn Olivia, who had then nodded curtly, and asked him to stay nonetheless, as she wasn't any type of doctor at all, and the local police force would most likely not trust her findings without him present. He had nodded, and approached the poor soul with caution, just for the sake that if they finished this soon, he could leave...Olivia had crouched down by the poor male John Doe, at least he assumed it was a male by the large size and the rather mannish clothing...

He had been very distressed to learn that Olivia seemed to know what she was doing... Had this young girl really been _**this**_ kind of detective, he wondered to himself as he helped her hold back her dress, a little embarrassed for doing so, but understanding that it was for the sake of not dirtying the expensive dress... He also wondered how long the girl had been doing this for. She was only sixteen, such a young, tender and supposedly innocent age...

Yet, she was acting as seasoned as any professional he had ever seen doing this type of job, which he had to admit when working with Basil was somewhat numerous, but still not really prominent in their dealings or cases... Olivia's face was without much emotion, her gloved paw was careful and delicate as it touched some odd parts of the body, and he noticed with some surprise that she was making quick notes with a pen, on a small notebook balanced on her knee, her handwriting, unlike the one of the letter was much more quicker, not as elegant and though messy, was at least completely legible to anyone who knew how to read. He never knew Olivia was ambidextrous, or had trained herself to be so... But at least he did know right then and there that the girl intended to share her findings with whoever his wife came back with, and for some reason, that made his stomach turn even further in dismay. She was_** prepared**_ for this type of horror... Not only prepared... But she was... _**Used **_to this...

At the moment the girl's dark blue eyes trained on the corpse, and gloved fingers probing the lacerations on it, still making the notes with patience. When she started to speak aloud, Dawson jumped, and was horrified to hear her lovely voice and accented voice calmly explain what had happened to the man:

"He's been... shredded... Look at the way the cuts are made... Their not clean enough to be any knife or saw... They are all at an irregular depths, as well as in size... That is deliberate..." she said eyes still trained on the body.

Dawson was ever grateful that his poor and strong Gene had been sent away by Olivia, because he was sure that if she had been around she would have fainted, or had emptied her stomach like he desperately wanted to. His wife was a strong, bold woman, and she was, he knew, a marvelous actress, and frighteningly good at handling any type of herb or plant, as he father had been a wealthy botanist, and her mother had been a renown herbalist... A strong woman indeed, that had dared duped the famous Basil of Baker street, and his partner for the sake of saving children in China, because she had a gentler heart than most would believe... And would have not been able to handle this scene without some sort of hysterical fit...

Dawson was pulled out of his musings when he felt Olivia inch forward, and he dared peek to see her run her hand along the mouse's arm, which was bent at an odd angle. He grimly wondered very briefly and nauseously if this was common type of job for the young Olivia, and he knew that it was by her calm, and almost cold demeanor. He looked desperately around him, at anything other than the corpse to distract himself, and he caught the look of his partner for solving crime, for the last eight years, the man that was his best friend and who knew him best... Basil of Baker street, the ever unchanging, calm and utterly most no nonsense mouse alive, the one that was past most petty emotions and all social stigma, noted Dawson with an almost amused twist to his thoughts, though not quite amused, was looking on at Olivia in a sort of transfixed horror, as she went on in details, and much more, and even, dare he think it, in an almost musing manner about the state the poor man was in.

"...My, I can't seem to remember where on earth I've seen this type of wounds..." Olivia mumbled with a frustrated look in her eyes, touching once again the lacerations on the mouse's broad and now gaping chest.

Basil couldn't speak as he heard her voice go in, in a solemn sort of detail that horrified him. He himself, the great Basil of Baker street had never really dabbled in this side of the detective work, as much as most assumed he did... He _**had**_ combed many murder scenes, of course, it was his duty to give voices to those who had been silenced... He had done more murder cases than he could really count, including his own parents', though he had to admit he was more prone to focus on the more lighter side of detective work, stolen jewels, disappearances, that type of thing... But he still had, and will do in the future murder cases...

But he had never even dared touched the bodies of the lost souls... Part of that thought made Basil want to snort, he wasn't a religious man, not by any standards really, or a philosophical one and he was more prone to believe in logic over faith, as well as sheer intelligence... But he set a sort line or standard with death, and that was the one subject that made him, if only for a brief second, believe in something as silly as faith… Because when someone does die, or at least to him, something, other than their pulse of course, was missing. Their bodies became nothing more than cold, lifeless vessels that had carried something precious. Whether that something precious was an immortal soul, he would never know until his own death, but it was indeed, precious...

And he couldn't bring himself to touch the lifeless vessel of someone, because they missed that ever so precious thing, whatever that was... He had only ever collected the necessary data from the morticians, the professionals in the matter of death and cause... He was one to only briefly trifle with the horrible and hallow thing that was death, and he was one to more or less ignore it otherwise... Because, in truth, it hadn't effected him in over nine years, and he really didn't want to break that particular streak of luck, because it suited him just fine... _**Perfectly**_, actually.

He had so little precious people left, in all honesty. He only had Dawson, Toby, Mrs. Judson, and grudgingly, and a little forcibly, with much hesitance and fear, Genevieve... So that came to three people, and a dog... Basil paused in his thoughts, and had to admit with some surprise that maybe it was not just three that were ever so dear to him... Truly dear, because he did have other friends and companions, just not as precious as those... Four. Because for some utterly, strange, odd, and slightly mad reason, Olivia Fleshenfleffer now counted in those precious few. Inside himself, Basil felt that he didn't mind that... No, he didn't mind that at all, though he was amazed that it had happen so quickly.

Not even a day had passed and Basil had added her to that elite few... Or well, elite and forced few, if you counted Genevieve's case, because that woman truly did terrify the wits out of him... And he would never, ever trust her neither near a Chinese massage parlor, nor a cup of his precious tea... Damn crazy woman and their need to save children, no matter how right that need was, the blasted woman could have told him before she had deiced to mess with his preciousstate of mind... Basil shook himself out of his slightly rambling thoughts, and thought with a sigh that he was getting a tad hysterical, as he rambled when he was... It _**had**_ been at least a year or two since his last case, so he had something resembling a excuse, but still... At least his last case hadn't been of this kind of brutal nature, if he recalled right a woman had drowned by the riverfront, near a sewer pipe... He frowned, that case had not been solved, much to his horror... He really couldn't solve them all, and the bobby in charge of the case had kicked him off, and since it was official police business, and hadn't been at a request of anyone, he had been forced to droop the case, much to his fury and disgust...

He broke out of his memory, and looked again down at the two, and much shorter, precious people that were here with him, and relaxed if only a fraction of an inch. He looked at Dawson's stiff back, hands full of the light, airy fabric of Olivia's dress. He could also see just the tiniest fraction of the side of his partner's face, and he noticed that the partner in question was looking faintly green.

Well, not faintly green, but truly green and looking as if he had the largest urge ever to show Basil and Olivia just what exactly he had for breakfast that morning before he had walked over to Basil's flat... Basil sincerely hoped that he would not give them that 'honor' of knowing, and though he knew Genevieve was a wonderful cook, he did not want to see anything that woman had made, no matter to what degree it had been digested... Part of Basil was astounded as he stood to the side, leaning against the wall of the alley, as Olivia had firmly pushed him into before going over to the body... He carefully was examining both the forty year old veteran surgeon, who looked as if he was going to fall into a dead faint, and the precious sixteen year old... Detective. A girl both he and Dawson had known since her childhood, doing the side of detective work that he them could not really stomach...

And neither could Dawson of all people, or at least he could not stomach it as if it was the most normal, commonplace thing they had ever done before, as Olivia seemed to be doing. She did not flinch nor cower before the dead, especially the dead in this mutilated state... Nor did she show much of a reaction at all, really. Gone was the shy, yet earnest girl that had come into his parlor just last night, wishing to be his and Dawson's partner. She was gone...

In her place was a calm, collected, and forward woman... No, a calm, collected and forward _**detective**_ who was now touching the mouse's face. Or, well what was left of his 'shredded' face as she had said, with the gentlest of fingertips, the lightest of touches and though by her face she would seemed detached, her posture and body language betrayed to Basil just how sorry she was. In her old blue eyes he saw a sorrow and some other emotion that he could not quite place... She touched the large and mutilated body as if it was the saddest thing she had ever done, which he had a feeling was... She quickly and quite literally took notes on what had occurred, her pen seemingly flying across the paper, her brows now furrowed.

"Broken bones, the leg, arm, tail... And Back... They all seems to have been a rather clean breaks, almost... Textbook in nature, for I sense when I touch the breaks that it has no shattering, how odd... Unless the bone shards are much smaller? No matter... " muttered Olivia.

She inched forward just a inch, eyes intent, and Dawson fumbled to keep her dress away from the grim and congealed blood that lined the alleyway.

"Whoever did it wanted to cause a lot of pain... Wait, no! The breaks would have had to have happened during transport though, not at the murder scene, I'm quite sure, so it didn't occur during the time John Doe was alive, from what I can see... Which is a good thing for him, and it also implies that whoever did this wanted to trip us off, because this... This would be something most would miss... Unless it was on accident, which I doubt, it just takes to much strength to do that, and since this man is so large I doubt it... Though from what I can see, the break in the tail did happen before his death, poor man..."

Basil flinched at the thought, his own tail, he could feel twitched behind him, and almost tucked itself between his legs before he composed himself, and looked at Olivia in a trance of horror and pride that she knew so much. And could only say two words to express her horror, and say it in such a calm voice...

"Now... His wounds, though familiar, I can't really tell what they are made from until my memory graces me with that detail... Though I can see now that this man is in his early thirties, or in the most likely hood he was in his late twenties... He was a tall mouse, around six inches, and he weighed around fifty-five grams... A large man, he would have been quite a sight to see..." whispered Olivia.

It hadn't been long, mused Olivia grimly as she took notes on any other detail she could see about his identity... As his once fine shoes and clothes, made of while not the most expensive silk, was quite of good quality, and was by no means cheep... Had it really only been Five months ago? Five months and six days, if she recalled right... She was pretty sure she did... It had been a murder that had been much more gentler, if you could call a murder that. The victim had been smothered, which always left little traces of what was done... It hadn't been the most wonderful cases of her life, in fact, it would rank as number one in the most horrible cases she had worked in... Part of her couldn't really get it straight through her mind that he was gone...

She had almost lost it, she recalled suddenly... When she had seen the tiny, and causally thrown body holding a rather scruffy and much played with teddy bear in his limp arms, in a way that Olivia knew that in his final moments he had clutched to desperately, most likely in comfort... She had given him that bear, on whim true, but in his last moments he had wanted to hold it, most likely just wishing to be able to breath again, or just wanting that deep pressure in his oxygen deprived lungs to go away, and for the pain to stop... It had been raining so hard that day, and she had been in a rather tired mood when they had brought her to the alley way... She remembered how it had drenched her skin, and had been oddly warm, until she had seen him... She had never felt so cold in her life...

She had almost been too enraged that night, almost to emotional to notice the small blotches of black color that had been around the boy's mouth and nose, which she had later had discovered had been shoe polish, and that the small little boy had been killed by his father, the shoe shiner of that corner... It had been such a sad sight, seeing that particular little boy gone... She had remembered him, and though he had lived in the town next to her's, he had come up to every time she was available, and had always shyly given her a single and most beautiful wild thistle. She had never ever had the heart to tell him that it was a weed, and she had always accepted it from him with a smile... And he had always given her that shy, endearing gape tooth smile... With that precious look on his dirty face...

She admitted to herself now, without so much pain clogging up her heart and mind, that she missed the little boy, and was just so sad that she had never learned his name until after his death, which was ironically Thistle... She made sure, even now, to have a small batch of it in her room at all times, and if she recalled, she had some dried in her suitcase, in the hidden compartment... She always had some on her person as well, and she had some in one of her many hidden pockets... Just to keep him with her, if only in sentiment...

"Olivia... I... I must say... Are you quite comfortable with this?" asked Dawson from behind her.

She felt him shift slightly from foot to foot, and heard him gulp. She almost rolled her eyes, and was surprised that the question hadn't come sooner, and why Dawson had asked now...

"Quite, Doctor Dawson." she said without looking back, intent on John Doe.

"Ah... Are you sure dear?"

Olivia nodded, suppressing an irritated sigh and not looking away from the body. Basil had had enough. He had endured a large amount of watching her poke and prod at the body, but it was _**enough**_. He could no longer take her calm manner, he could no longer take her being so near the lifeless vessel of someone...

"Olivia, step away from the body." he said in as calm as he could make his voice.

Olivia paused, looking over her shoulder. Dark blue meet emerald green, and the owner of the latter, for some strange reason felt himself gulp at the look of thinning patience in her eyes.

"No, I think I need to be near it to examine it." she said with the just smallest indication of a frown.

Inside she fumed, thinking that even now, after he was near her to 'protect' her, he was being rather annoying, and was not letting her work in peace. Dawson had been kind enough to take a round about way of asking her to move away from the body, but Basil was being direct and commanding. Olivia never did well with direct and commanding.

"No, you don't need to be close at all, you've done enough." he almost snarled it to her, but kept enough control of his rarely triggered temper to not do so.

Olivia on the other hand was a female in the crux of puberty, and though she was the most patience and most often the calmer of her kind, her temper snapped because of all the rather irritating and devastating things that were happening around her. She stood up in one fluid movement, surprising the two men, making them jump as they caught a quick glance of her underclothes, making the younger of the two to blush for an unknown reason, and the older of the two to drop her dress. Dawson almost swore, because he knew for the sake of propriety Olivia's dress would be ruined, but held it back, blinking in surprise as she moved in another fluid movement, her dress not touching the filth of the murder scene, she was right against Basil, he small and now bare finger came up to poke him in the chest. Her glove laid in her other hand, inside out, and her hand was on her hip, which she cocked with an attitude of someone who was twice her size.

"You, Basil of Baker Street are trying on my last nerve. _**Enough**_. You either respect my work and leave me alone to do it, or you leave and let me do it. Quite frankly, the latter is becoming more appealing if you keep up this show of machismo, because I have had just enough stupid and arrogant men in my life, and seeing you do it is not only disappointing, but quite frankly_** boring**_." she said with a deceivingly calm voice, her eyes fierce and full of fire.

Basil once again gulped, grinning in a way that he hoped for her not to kill him.

"What's all this mess?" said an irate voice.

The occupants of the alley looked up to see a bobby, dressed full in black and twirling his baton in a slow, easy manner and a rather worried looking Genevieve behind him, her hat in hand, and her cheeks full of color. It seemed as if she had just argued, and most likely had with the bobby to get him there... The wife of the Doctor took one look at the scene and screamed, light blue eyes wide, and her delicate and white glove coming up to cover her mouth. She looked toward her husband with horror, trembling.

"David?" she asked with a pale face, tears coming to her eyes.

David Dawson felt aghast, and he ran to his wife, and though he was much shorter than she, he took her into his arms, and shushed her softly, covering her large eyes with his hands.

"Gene, it's best if we wait outside the alley, love, come on." he said, pulling his wife away.

The bobby, who Basil groaned at when he saw properly him, as he had been the very officer to get him and Dawson kicked off the case of the drowning woman, turned back to the two mice in the alleyway. He did not seem to hear Basil yet or he would have thrown a fit, as doe some odd reason, he did not like him at all... His eyes instead were trained on the delicate Olivia, his chest puffed up slightly when he caught sight of her dark blue eyes, as he had a thing for them, and he took great pains to offer her a smile that was meant to be calming, thinking that the girl must be terribly distressed because of the whole ordeal. She just looked at him with a frown on her face.

"Now, Miss, you may join you're mother and father out there, and I can take it from here, poppet." he said with a gentle bow.

Basil tired very hard not to snigger at the fact that he had called Genevieve old enough to be Olivia's mother, which was quite possible... If she had given birth to Olivia at eleven, which was not at all possible, because the poor, and he meant that with all sincerity, as she longed for children so much and he didn't hate her, just feared her... Again, the poor Genevieve could not conceive at all... He broke free of his rather sorrowful musings to see Olivia's back straighten, and he could almost see the fire that was surly burning in her large eyes.

"Pardon?" she said with a snap to her voice.

The bobby smiled, his teeth straight and even, white as can be an his gray eyes shinning as he bowed once again. Basil counted down his doom with glee.

"You don't have to worry your pretty head poppet, just go with your parents and let me handle everything here, I'll question you last so you can compose your hysterical self, and so you don't have to see this beastly sight anymore."

Olivia smiled, and while to the bobby it looked angelic and sweet, Olivia knew it was anything but.

"Do I look hysterical to you, officer?" she said with a narrowing of her eyes.

The bobby blinked at her sharp tone, and glance at the sweetly smiling girl with confusion and curiosity.

"No, Miss." he said in a slow tone, brows furrowed.

She smiled wider, eyes growing thinner as she did.

"Good, now I have to inform you sir, I am not a poppet in any shape and form... And to remind you that you are in the presence of the body of some poor man, and here you are chatting me up..._** Do. Your. Job**_. Call in back up and make sure they bring something to transport this to the morgue, oh, and block off the area in case there is some curious civilians, and do not let the witnesses out of your sight, in case they saw something and they are afraid to say a word." Olivia snapped, hands on hip.

The bobby blinked again, eyes wide at the way a mere sixteen year old girl had treated him. He opened his mouth again and again to counteract her, or to scold her, or maybe even to declare his intention to arrest the lovely young lady, when his gray eyes lifted past her to catch the movement of a laughing, tall mouse, more so than him, and much more leaner... Sparkling and damnable emerald eyes...

"_**BASIL**_ OF BAKER STREET!" he snarled out his mouth scowling.

"Officer Noir." Basil said with a nod of his head, his lips twitched upwards just a tad to see the officer's rather red and infuriated face.

The officer, Noir seethed as he glared at the man that got all the attention, all the glory for doing the job that most on the force did all of their lives, and got no recognition for at all. How he hated the rich boy pounce with his whole being, for being something of a celebrity, for being just so... _**Damn **_arrogant. And so damn _**bloody**_ right all the time!

"What the_** bloody**_ _**hell**_ are you doing here?" he snarled to him.

Basil looked down at him through his nose.

"Keeping my language clean and gentlemanly in the presence of a lady." he said with a bite to his tone.

Olivia rolls her eyes, snorting with annoyance when Officer Noir turned to her to babble his apologies, face flushed.

"I've heard, and _**said**_ far worse... Basil, please, if you can stop the whole machismo thing you both are having, on a _**murder**_ scene, I might add... Please boys, kiss and make up, then do your _**jobs**_." she said in a bored tone.

Both mice glared at each other in dislike, before the officer of the two looked at Olivia with wide eyes.

"You know this man, Miss?" he asked with clear disgust.

Olivia snorted.

"Since I was eight years old, now moving past that, _**do your job**_." she huffed for a third time.

Neither man seemed to hear her, and where glaring at each other rather menacingly. Olivia herself felt as if she was going to choke with all the testosterone in the air. It took the men yet another minute before they finally snapped into action, and the officer did exactly what he was told, and he told the group of four companions that it was time for them to take a trip to Scotland Yard for questioning. They all nodded their consent, and Olivia gave up the glove she had used to examine the body, the officer had given her an odd look, so she had told him she had used it to check the pulse... He nodded in that, and promised to buy her a pair of new gloves, which made Olivia roll her eyes, before he offered to help her onto the carriage. She had given him a pointed look, before using Basil's extended hand from inside to lift herself in, and she sat down, looking away from the rather put out officer... Once the door of the carriage was closed and it was in motion she turned to Basil with a tired frown.

"That was a rather annoying bobby." she said in a dry tone.

She had no idea why he had looked at her with sparklingly emerald eyes, or why he had let out a husky chuckle of amusement, or why the sound had made her stomach twist in an incredibly odd , yet completely warm way. All she knew was that she liked his laughter... For some odd, infuriating reason that she couldn't quite place.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I do not own The Great Mouse Decetive, the totally unfair legal system dictates <strong>**that it belongs to the Disney Cooperation, who are evil enough not to make an sequel, ****and force a poor girl to write fan-fiction just to satisfy her need for one, ****because she couldn't seem to find a good one... Or really was to lazy to find one, ****and just out of the blue started to write her own, because the darn muses wouldn't leave her alone... ****She may or may not be a slave to the Mouse, Mickey, but she confirms that that is still up to debate, ****and that at the moment she seems to be the slaves of two other Mice, Olivia and Basil, who are at the ****moment grinning evily at her and then lifting their eyebrows in PG horror when they see what she did ****write about them...**

**ANYWAY, I like to say that the above says that I don't own it... Hhehhehe. I have a weird sense of ****humor, I know, it freaks my family out as well, and they are still debating whether I need to stay away** **from Disney movies, more so my older sister, who actually loves this story...**

**ANYWAY, ANYWAY, I'm sorry it took me so long to write this chapter, I was in such a writer's block ****phase that I wanted to find a block just to beat it and see if that would help. I can't even count** **how many times I read my story, and story out-line again and again to get out of my block, and how** **many times I watched the movie... I'm seriously starting to remember the lines of the characters** **(And, my brain isn't really wired to meorize that kinda stuff audio wise, it's more text and picture ****oriented) and I have already long since know the lyrics to the songs. Worse than All the widows and ****orphans you drowned~~~? Is this really what they had them singing? Gosh, we sure don't notice things** **as children, do we Mr. Disney?...**

**So yeah, this chapter was really hard to write for me, why, I'm not sure why, all I know at the****moment, I seem to be rambling to you?... I'm sorry 'bout that, and thank you if you read both my story, and my rambling authoress' ****note, and please review to show that the insane things my mind comes up with have some value.**

**~Moon Witch '96**


	10. A Cathartic Carriage Ride

**A Cathartic Carriage Ride**

Slender brown paws danced and absently toyed with the lavender feathers of the rather large brim hat laid in the owner's cotton skirt covered lap, drenched in flowers, feathers, and violet in color and just simply lovely in all around arrangement and taste. Though at the moment the owner of said lap could not neither register that nor care about one of her precious hats, for her mind played a constant loop of the startlingly red alleyway, and she was lost in that damned image. It was not the first gore she had seen, but it was not her hundredth in any sense. She was not a gentle mouse by nature, but a brass and slightly loud one, but she was still a mouse of a kind character, and she hated to think what kind of horror the mouse in the alleyway had experienced... But, yet she could not help but think of it, a frown her face as she felt the carriage move at a slightly uneven gait, almost clumsy in its movements as she rode it to Scotland yard. She shook her head, trying to dismiss that horrible image. She did so with little success, and sighed tiredly.

To distract herself, the young female mouse looked around her with a slight nervous twitch of her left brow, swallowing over and over because her mouth didn't seem to get quite enough moisture. Her light blue eyes darted nervously back and forth between her silent and not so companions, noting that both her husband and his insufferable partner where talking in quiet tones, heads bowed together. Genevieve Dawson reflected that this was not out of the ordinary, nor was the way the spoke in a way that she could hear but not understand a single word of their speech, and only understand the grave tones in which their deep voices spoke in. No, what was out of the ordinary was the silent girl who watched her the two men with sorrowful and dark blue eyes.

They were such a strange eyes, reflected Genevieve to herself, switching her absent minded movements to play with the small, slender emerald ring on one of her fingers. They were large, and like she had stated before when she had first laid eyes on her were doll like in proportion, as was the rest of the serious girl's face. A face at the moment, she noticed with some surprise looked regretful, and nervous to some degree, she also noticed with some surprise that those odd eyes of her's were solely rested upon on the rather annoying and amusing Basil of Baker street who would on occasion look up to meet the Miss. Flaversham's eyes, lock for a few moments, and then flicker back to her David's face. How odd, indeed reflected Genevieve, for she could sense a sort of tension between the two, and in fact had sense that tension the moment she had laid eyes on the pair of them together for the first time...

Genevieve, despite the situation could not help but allow herself to smile, if only a fraction of the amount she usually would. She was nowhere as near as intelligent as Basil (she doubted anyone was), nor was she as leveled headed as her husband, and though since her youth of growing with two plant specialists had granted her a knack for herbs, something which she had no doubt either of the men in front of her could learn if they bothered too, she did know something that neither would ever really be able to learn with as much ease as she did, for in the end, she was a woman, and things like this came naturally for her, as what women did was watch, and use whatever they saw to help them... For as a woman, as a mouse really, Genevieve since her birth had a certain gift of being able to read anyone who crossed her path, and though as stoic as the ones in front of her could be, she read them as easily as a true fortune teller could read your palm. And though it was not odd for Genevieve to divulge into reading the people around her, it was odd for her to do so in such a stressful situation.

Her David was by far the easiest to examine. Seven or so years of marriage made it come easy to her, and she could read David like an open book... His habits were all too known to her, and she smiled again at the endearing nature of most of them. Though at the moment by the slight twitch of his paws and slight tapping of his foot clued her in to an emotion that he was often partaking in... This time this held no endearing tone, for it was simply a way to express that he was nervous, and a little disturbed by this case. It did not take much for a case to disturb her husband, especially a murder case, but this was was especially getting under his skin. She frowned. It was underneath her skin as well, this case, and she did not like it one bit, and found a sense of forbidding enter her already queasy stomach.

Genevieve shook her head violently, taking away her silly thoughts and focusing on reading once again the people around her. She moved on to the only other person in the cab that she truly knew. Basil, in the seven or so years was someone she had come to know well, and knew that he too was disturbed by this case, as they all were, but all in all, was calmer than her husband, and somewhat strangely smug. She knew that by his slight smile, and his twitching eyes, and the slight tenancy for pushing his now to long hair out of his emerald eyes. Emerald eyes that came to flicker again to the girl sitting next to her, before returning to her husband. Her lips twitched in dry amusement. Now that was something else... Did anyone but her is the cab know that Olivia Flaversham and Basil of Baker street had a...Wanted to... Well, she couldn't think of an accurate way of even thinking it in her mind without being a bit crass, and couldn't help but think that they wanted to jump each other's bones. Genevieve suppressed a snort, eyes rolling. That, she felt was going to come and bit them in the arse in one way or another, because of the respected age differences, and the fact that they lived in the same home at the moment... She shook her head again and focused on the girl beside her.

Olivia Flaversham, she felt was the new element in this case, in their lives. And she was someone else for Genevieve to read... Fortunately for her, the girl known as Olivia Flaversham was easy to read as well, for though she was somewhat of a stiff, the girl was a very expressive stiff person. She was hesitant, as if she shouldn't dare show emotion... Her paws twisted in her lap, and her eyes though somewhat steady on the men in the carriage, would flicker back and forth from them to her lap, and her mouth would open once in a while as if she was about to say something, but couldn't quite dare to. She would then bit her lip to prevent herself from talking at all. And then repeat. This, at least to Genevieve, could never do.

"Miss. Flaversham, is there something you like to say?" she asked her pointedly, brows raised.

Olivia herself froze as all of the pairs of eyes in the carriage locked on her, the icy blue eyes, the gentle doe, and the piercing emerald eyes that filled her with shame. She looked down at her paws for what felt like the millionth time and looked up to stare into the emerald eyes. She cursed herself as she felt tears gather in her own eyes. She hated crying... She bit her lower lip, letting out a sad sigh. She felt her face flush and she hiccuped. Olivia almost wanted to laugh at Basil's shocked face, but didn't dare to, and said aloud what she been wanting to say for a while since she had sat down inside the carriage.

"I... I... I'm sorry. I'm so _**sorry**_... I... I was so rude to you! And to that officer! I... I... Oh... You wouldn't let me do my job, and... And... Oh Basil, I'm just so _**sorry.**_" she whispered softly, dropping her head into hands.

She had no idea what had come over her, and why on earth she had let herself become so rude, as if she was back in Scotland, where the police force wouldn't accept her any other way. Cold, harsh, demanding. And just quite simply, rude. That was what her time with the Scots had turned her into whenever she worked, and she _**hated**_ it. You had to be tough they had said, because she was a woman, a girl in there eyes... She didn't want to pretend to be emotionless, and to yell at any male who looked at her the wrong way. Seeing Basil react the way he did to her made her feel off balance, and she felt as if she had just reached a cross road... Did she want to continue the particular line of work when it came to detective work?

If she was honest to herself, she would have to say no... It was not something she had ever relished, nor wanted, but had done to appease both her morbid curiosity and to make sure she was well rounded as a detective... She regretted that, she knew, especially after she had seen Basil's reaction. But, she suppose, she didn't have to work these cases... She was a gentle person by nature, and felt as if she had seen quite enough. But, she resolved that maybe this would be the last murder case in which she would take 'hands on' approach. She was shocked when she felt tears slip down her cheeks, into her hands.

It had been a long time, she then reflected as she sobbed quietly in her hands since she had cried, and _**really **_cried. It had also been a long time since she had enjoyed herself, since she had been able to truly relax, and her brief stay with Basil was already affecting her in ways that she had a never even guessed. She felt... So... Happy, and just so much at peace with him around, and it was wonderful. Those few brief moments of just peace and banter before that wretched John Doe had made Olivia realize that she was just a young woman, one who was smarter than most, one that had odd array of skills most would seen unfit for he, and had a job most would frown upon... But she was, still a young woman, and she felt as if coming to London that she had forgotten that fact, and had acted like a bitter old crone. Now that she was in tears, Olivia felt a peace that she hadn't felt in a long time, and sighed softly. She hiccuped again.

"Olivia my dear, dry your tears, you were in a stressful situation, and we disturbed you in your job...We understand." said a soft, gentle voice that belonged to Doctor Dawson.

Olivia felt her a weak smile on her face, and she looked up, glancing into his dark ones. He offered a a handkerchief and Olivia felt as if she was eight years old again, and she delicately took it to dry her tears with as much dignity as she could, as well as blowing her nose softly. She handed it back with another smile, feeling immensely better. She had forgotten on how a good cry could make her feel so much better.

"Thank you." she whispered.

Dawson smiled, winking slightly.

"Olivia, it simply takes me back to give you this."said Dawson in with a laugh, tucking away the handkerchief.

"It was one of the first things you did when you met me." she said softly, laughing with him with the fondness of the past.

Basil himself smiled at the tone of affection he heard in Olivia's voice, and Dawson's.

"I dare say Miss. Flaversham, how do you feel?" asked the quiet voice of Genevieve.

Basil saw Olivia smile widely and truly, eyes red and face just a tad blotchy... It was then that he felt something twist in the pit of his stomach, and it was then that he felt as if someone had hit him with something or another over his head. Something that was very very blunt, heavy and utterly devastating to his cranium. He had mentioned before to Olivia that she was a pretty girl, but seeing her with just after she had cried gave Basil enough to know that she was not merely a pretty girl. He swallowed thickly. How odd, it was if he could not get any oxygen... And he felt distinctively warm.

"I feel fine." said Olivia, tone warm.

"I'm glad." responded Genevieve, patting the young girl with her paw onto her paw.

Olivia laughed softly, and almost joyless sound, but not quite, and it made Basil tense. Especially when Olivia laughed again, though there was true warmth in her tone.

"Thank you Mrs. Dawson..." she said softly again.

The turned to sudden silence. And then Basil glanced at Olivia's paws. They trembled, ever so softly, and she twisted them in her lap to disguise that. He frowned, and then turned to Genevieve.

"Genie, switch seats with me if you please." he demanded.

Genevieve raised an eyebrow, and then gave Olivia a sideways glance before standing up clumsily in the moving carriage to sit next to her husband, turning to him and talking in quiet, private tones. Basil himself sat next to Olivia without another word. He felt her tense, and he frowned, before without even glancing at her through the corner of his eyes, taking her small paw within his own. It was warm, soft and utterly delicate, mostly fine bones that felt like a bird's. She tensed slightly, tugging at her hand. Basil held fast, still not looking at her and clenching his hand ever so softly. She sighed. A soft sound that filled his ears with an almost impossible loudness. She was tense for a few more seconds, and the, so gently that he almost missed it, Olivia squeezed his hand back. Basil smiled. He looked out of the corner of his expressive emerald eyes to look into Olivia's dark blue ones, and noticed that though red and puffy, it did not take away the beauty of them. She smiled.

"Thank you." she whispered softly.

Basil only smiled, turning away from her, feeling the slight bumpy and clumsy movements of the carriage underneath him, and a distinctively warm feeling in his chest.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I do not own this wonderful movie... Can you give me the rights Disney? Pretty please?<strong>

**Okay, so, its a short chapter I know, but at least its a chapter, man I'm exhausted... I have to tell you, my classes? Easy. My homework? Too much. Sigh... Next chapter should be incredibly long, so wish me luck writing it. I hope I write fast... Anyway, thank you for reading and please review. Because reviews are love and I need a little love... Or a cookie... Darn, now I really want a cookie...**


	11. Scotland Yard

**Scotland Yard**

"So Miss. Flaversham, these are your notes on what you assume what happened to John Doe?" asked a clipped, harsh voice.

Olivia Flaversham almost sighed at the tone in the mouse's voice. It was a tone she knew all too well, one of greatest discrimination of her sex, as well as for somewhat disarming appearance and had it not been for two factors she would have snapped at the man, just as she had done before at Basil and Officer Noir. Factor one, she had regained her composure after that short bout of tears in the carriage ride over to the very establishment where the man in front of her glared at her in. Factor two, the warm, constant presence of Basil's shoulder against her own. These two things alone made her regain her usual calm, and almost serene self in tack. The man in front of her waved around the pages of notes she had ripped out of her small leather bound notebook, right in front of her nose.

"Yes." was her simple reply, eyes solemn.

The man's face tightened. Jaw tight, eyes as narrow as can be without actually closing them.

"And where, pray tell young lady have you gained the insight for such gruesome matters such as this." he said looking down his nose at her.

Olivia suppressed the next sigh that tried to work its way up her chest.

"Edinburgh, Scotland. Division 6, Department of Investigations. Studying and working with Officer Smith and Doctor Gray." came her practiced reply.

"Is that so?" he asked stroking his long and grayed beard.

Olivia nodded. And the man stepped away from looming over her as he had been doing in obvious attempt to intimidate her. It failed greatly, for her gentle father could inspire more fear from the her. She noticed that his posture immediately changed, which made her eyes narrow a fraction before she controlled her muscles into a more relaxed state. The questioner's own posture was more relaxed, almost lazy in a way as if he had been faking the whole harsh act. He was a good actor reflected Olivia, as his harsh posture flared up again as he turned to the man on her right.

"Now, Mr. Basil... That is not your surname is it?" asked the man.

Basil shook his head, a thin smile appearing on his lips. He raised a brow, and looked at the man with clear humor in his eyes.

"Now, Bruce, we both know the answer to that... I have to ask, why must you be such a stickler for the rules and question us of all this? And so harshly, we've worked together for nearly eleven years, surly you can trust us enough to simply give our side of the story and get to work?" said Basil evenly.

The man, Bruce gave a snort.

"Basil of Baker street, nothing is ever so simple with you around." he said, rolling his eyes and throwing himself back into a chair.

Basil smiled, his hands elegantly stretching out as he gave Bruce a mock bow from his seat. He tipped the sleek top hat in his hands to him as well, lips twitching.

"Quite the contrary my old friend, we both know that with me around, things get that much simpler." he responded smartly.

The man snorted, touching his beard once again. His black eyes flickered once again to Olivia, though this time he wore a somewhat lazy smile.

"My dear, pardon for acting like a cad, just following the rules... Excellent notes by the way, the people downstairs agree with your assessment completely... Doctor Grey and Officer Smith trained you well... Now, what on earth are you doing with this idiot?" asked the man, jerking his thumb at Basil.

Olivia laughed as Basil gave out an huff and scowl of annoyance.

"You could say working with him." said the young woman, Scottish lit brightening her tone.

Officer Edward Bruce raised his brows at her words and then grinned.

"Breaking the rules aren't you lassie." said the man, the long forgotten Scottish twist of his tongue he had donned as a child coming back as he spoke to the girl.

She smiled in delight, one which the man returned wholeheartedly, eyes creasing as the girl charmed him with that simple smile.

"Only the silly, unnecessary ones."said Olivia.

Basil himself only could watched with raised brows at the slightly strange exchange. Bruce was such a stickler to the rules that it was faintly ridiculous at times, and he only ever relaxed if he had a feeling that those in front of him were not breakers of the laws at all. He had already questioned out Dawson and Genevieve, who where at the moment outside, because Genevieve had suddenly felt very faint, and he had gotten them out of the way. He had pulled the tough act around Olivia because he didn't know her which had made him even worse, because Bruce hated the unknown. And Olivia was the only unknown factor in this case...

"Well, I hope you can keep this man in line lassie, God knows many have tired and failed utterly!" said Bruce, bowing to the girl and bringing her paw to his lips.

She laughed, and stood, giving the man a curtsy.

"I shall try, but I have feeling that it won't really happen." she said, gathering her hat and waiting for Basil.

He himself got up in a timely manner, gave a bow to Bruce and left the man to his thoughts, wishing him luck on the case. They both walked outside to be greeted by the sight of both Genevieve and Dawson, sitting on a bench, the former looking ill and the latter concerned.

"So, are you arrested for murder now Basil?" asked the faint voice of Genevieve, who looked faintly green.

Basil just gave a snort at the thought. Him a murder? Next she was going to say that hell was experiencing some heavy snow storms and that she had met a lovely pig who complained of air drafts as he flew. It was the last thing he would ever do... Besides, the one person he would ever consider performing such an act on was already dead.

"Genie..." said Dawson, patting her hand softly.

She shook him off, stumbled to her feet, and went to glare at Basil. Olivia watched the exchange with raised brows.

"Are you going to drag my husband into this case?" she asked sharply.

Basil bristled.

"Only if he wants to, Genevieve, don't act like its my fault that he's my partner, as if I made him do it. Don't-" snapped Basil, only to be interrupted by the woman he was having a row with.

"No! I don't want him on this case, nor you Basil of Baker street, their something that is off about this, it gives me a bad feeling! And you're going to drag along Olivia as well, can you put her in that type of danger?" asked Genevieve, tears coming to her icy eyes.

Basil took a step back, and noted with a start that Genevieve was hysterical. She clutched tightly at her large hat, twisting its brim a mess, and he knew would never be right again. Her face was pale, and her lips drawn in a tight line. Her pupils were dilated and sweat trickled on her brow. With care, he placed his paws gently on the shoulders of the woman that he had come to both fear, and love as he did her husband.

"Genie... Calm down, just breathe." he said carefully.

Her lower lip trembled and with a sob she turned to her husband, burning her face in the crook of his neck, seemingly giving a flying flip of what was proper or not at the moment. Basil stared at the sight that they made... Dawson was so much older, and different of temperament and character and yet the younger woman and him fit as if a puzzle, each the corresponding side. Perfect. It had been a great shock to him when Dawson had begun courting such a woman, a woman that had drugged him of all things! But in the end, no matter how much he feared her, and respected her, Dawson had manged to marry the woman... He had never seen his friend and partner look so happy, gobsmacked and pleased as the day that Genevieve had walked down the aisle. As he looked on at the couple, he wondered if he would ever find such a thing...

"Ah... Basil..." Said Olivia, gripping his arm.

He looked towards her with a start, emerald eyes wide, and she pointed. Officer Noir stood with a door, gray eyes narrowed and steadily looking at the scene in front of him. His dark fur looked ruffled, and he walked in, and gave a bow to them.

"Officer Hiram Noir, at your service." he said.

Olivia perked up, eyes shinning at the officer in such a way that made Basil's stomach twist.

"That's my father's name..." she said softly, smiling at the man.

Hiram smiled at the girl, and was pleased that she was suddenly much calmer. She had been a bit rude, or really more than more than rude before, but he would forgive such a girl as this. She was such of a form that he felt that she was very easy to forgive indeed.

"Really now? I'm honored to share such a name." he said with another bow.

Olivia smiled, and then gave a curtsy.

"I'm terribly sorry for my rudeness of before... I was not myself." said the girl, a harsh blush on her cheeks.

Hiram smiled yet again at the girl, and took her hand to bring it to his lips. Basil stared at the exchanged with narrowed eyes, his fists tightening to see the younger man greet Olivia this way.

"Please do not distress yourself, you were quite right as to what we've should have been doing... I was too... Distracted by the presence of someone I disliked greatly." he said gently.

"Who is standing right here." said Basil firmly, taking Olivia's hand away from the Officer and placing her to his side.

He glared at the Officer, who in turn did the same, mouth placing itself in a firm line. Olivia sighed, and stared at the very macho exchange, for they traded both insults and scathing remarks with a harshness that both she and Basil had lacked in their own banter that morning._** Men**_... She thought with open scorn, walking to touch Genevieve Dawson softly on her shoulder, who turned and gave her a steady stare.

"Mrs. Dawson, please, are you alright?" asked Olivia.

Genevieve herself gave her a weak smile, and surprised the younger woman by leaning away from her husband and onto her.

"I... I just feel so dizzy, and I was almost sick... And... Oh..." said the woman, eyes flickering to the back of her head, falling forward.

With a dexterity that most wouldn't think her possible, Olivia caught Genevieve firmly around the shoulders, and pulled her gently back, onto her husband's side. Weak icy eyes met dark blue ones.

"Sorry..." mumbled the owner of the icy eyes.

Olivia just smiled, and shook her head.

"I don't mind... It's just, maybe it's best if we take you home, we've said our statements, and were free to go I'm sure." she said kindly, before getting up to go and inform Basil.

Who was still exchanging scathing remarks with Officer Noir. Olivia snorted, shaking her head, and grabbed onto Basil's arm. He jumped at the contact, and Officer Noir stared.

"If you excuse us,Officer, we must be going."she said with a bright smile, dragging away Basil and singled to Dawson, who gently took Mrs. Dawson and walked with the younger pair.

Basil blinked and watched as the young woman dragged him away. It only stopped when an official looking mouse stopped right in front of him... A coroner. He froze and watched as the man gave them a sad smile.

"We've found the identity of the victim." he said softly.

Every mouse in the room stood at attention. They waited on baited breath, and Basil himself felt something clench over his heart, dread settling at the pit of his stomach.

"Yes?" he asked carefully.

The coroner mouse turned to him and said his piece:

"Johnathan Taylor, married to Anna Taylor, with two young sons, Benjamin and Richard..." he said in a a sad tone, before giving a nod to the mice in the room and then walking out of it.

Basil gasped. Johnathan? Johnny? He hadn't even had the chance to return the letter he had sent him just last week. Basil felt sadness enter him. Poor Anna, poor Ben and Richy. They had all adored Johnathan... And... To think that he had suffered so much? Olivia's words of before entered his mind, echoing madly on a constant repeat in his head. All that had happened to his friend, which he had known since his college days...

"Basil?" asked a soft voice.

Olivia's eyes met Basil, and he suddenly felt very tired. His posture turned to that of a man almost thrice his age.

"I knew him... I knew him..." was all he said before he tugged his arm out of the girl's.

Olivia watched his back with wide eyes. He knew the victim... Oh, poor Basil she thought softly as she went after him. She suddenly wished their was a way to comfort the man... But, as she walked behind the lonely and sorrowful mouse, she knew she had no idea how. And it made her feel so useless, as if she was eight years old again, and had no power over her surroundings. What a sad feeling she thought, as she stood behind Basil, and grabbed his hand, as he had done to her. He tried to tug away, as she had but she refused... And for that, Basil thanked her softly in his mind, and squeezed her hand gently. He had never felt more comforted in his life then when she had squeezed back.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I don't own it... Sadly.<strong>

**Happy Christmas Eve~ And I hope you like the chapter, because I didn't =/. But well, it seems that's how it wants to be, and I can't write it another way, sigh. Enjoy it, and have a wonderful holiday, whatever you celebrate. Please review, and thank you if you do.**

**~Peace,**

**Moon Witch **


	12. A Vestige Of The Past

**A Vestige Of The Past**

Basil had picked up his violin the second they had gotten home, and he let his fingers and bow dance across them without even a pause for breath. It was neither the sad mournful music that she had expected and witnessed once, nor was it the lively tune of just that morning. Part of Olivia felt as if the morning was weeks away, as so much had happen. Yet, the first real day of her summer at Baker street was barely fading, the light of the waning sun were touching upon the things of the parlor through the windows, shadows turned taller and thinner as she listened to the wild notes of Basil's violin.

The music was neither sad nor happy, she noted, no, it was as fierce as a storm, with thundering notes and wails of the wind intertwined within that in a complex melody that made her heart ache and think of her long dead mother and her father, as well as her friends in Scotland. It made her think of regrets and sorrows that had happen in her sixteen years of life, and part of her wondered as Basil played the same song over and over again that if with the ten more years of age was his life filled with more sorrow, and did he think of them with that storm ragging on his strings?

She hid behind the red arm chair, just hearing him play for so long and so fiercely with closed eyes and a frown on her lips, legs tucked closely to her chest, and her head held back.

She hadn't dare let him notice her stay in the parlor room, for she had went to her room, and then snuck back inside once she had heard the first note hit the strings of the violin. She stayed in the room as the shadows grew longer, as the fire that Ms. Judson had ignited faded. She didn't really know the man name Basil. It struck her with a certainty that made her feel sort of foolish. A few days of meeting, and one letter in exchange in the eight years since they had met was not enough to truly know a person. She had come to live with her hero, who was but a stranger for her. She could hear the headmistress scolding already in her head, sighing mentally so as not to alert the man just feet from her. A man whose heart was a thunder with his song, alive with it and echoing around her.

Again.

And again.

It sounded eerily in her ears like a fierce lullaby, one that she wouldn't dare repeat, for it was not a happy one. One of monsters and loud sounds that would scare a child witless. What a harsh song, one for nightmares or adventures to pass through with. What a sad one, yet not. It showed sorrow and torment in its player, but it was a fierce, almost soundless sorrow that could not be overheard between the peals of thunders or wails of wind that raged furiously throughout the song.

Hours past like minutes. And before long it was past midnight. The coals of the fire had died, and only the feeble and waning moon, with a few meager stars were letting light into the parlor. Without her knowledge, Olivia had fallen into a light doze, and gave a start when she felt something warm touch her dress, over her knee. She blinked greatly at the darker room than she had remembered. The room was silent. Basil's storm had passed, and its creator was in front of her with a mask of no emotion. Brows relaxed, mouth firm. His usually glittering eyes were dark in the light, nor glitter nor sparkle within the emerald shadows. Just... Nothing.

"Olivia, how long have you've been here?"he said it softly and weakly.

Olivia stared at Basil's shadowed face, and sighed. Her knees where drawn tightly to her chest, and she tilted her head to the side in a curious movement. In the weak light, Basil saw the darker strands pool over her shoulder like silk. Her face was solemn, yet as he kneeled beside her he noted that she looked the youngest he had ever seen her in his short stay. Eyes wide and slight hazed in the dark and with the remains of her doze, mouth parted slightly and in a pout of question. Muscles relaxed and trusting. A child indeed.

"Since the first note."she said it just as weak and soft.

Basil sighed, rocking back on his heals and pushed back his overly long hair with yet another sigh.

"You must be stiff and cold." he said.

Olivia shrugged without a word.

"Why?"

She did not answer right away he noted, looking thoughtful and serious as she mulled it over. Such a quiet girl did not speak unless it was necessary, and only with the most careful skill. An odd trait, for one so young, a trait he respected as he had never poised it, more brash than he care to admit despite his intelligence. It seemed at times his mouth was too quick for his brain, yet at the same time his brain was so much quicker...

"To understand."she answered finally.

He nodded in answer to her response, and stayed on the back of his heels. They said nothing, and looked at each other with measuring eyes. Neither knew what the other saw nor concluded, but both did see that the person in front of them, though brief in their acquaintance, was a stranger. A stranger, yet someone precious all the same. She leaned back towards the chair, and blinked when he got up, tugging her along, fixing the fire place before settling in front of the chairs, gesturing for her to sit as well. She did so, and watched the firelight dance against his fur, looking him expectantly as he looked into the warm flames. He sighed almost soundlessly and she stared in fascination.

"He was a friend of mine in university, even though we should have never been friends at all. He was twenty-five, and I was fifteen. He was loud and bold, I was secretive and smarter than everyone else. He was of a higher class, I was low-born, though from a good family. I pushed others away, and he dragged them in." he said it and seated himself on the ground.

She said nothing, listening with her dark eyes glittering.

"Johnathan Taylor was an idiot."he said wryly, but not unkindly.

She laughed softly, just for a second at his words. And he chuckled. It was a tired chuckle that made him seem so much older for a second, the lines beneath his eyes becoming stark in the light.

"But Johnny was a good man. He never treated anyone maliciously, even as a joke. But he was so annoying!"he exclaimed, sighing with a fond shake of his head.

He paused to stare at the flames again, profile grimacing in the light.

"He was the first friend I had made in a long time, and though we we're never really close, I'd admired him for being such a good person. We stayed in contact since those days, a letter here or there a month, kind hellos. Simple things. An invitation to his wedding and the christenings of his two little boys."

Olivia said nothing and stared at the stranger in front of her. He was hurting, she could see, as plain as day and as clear as crystal. But yet he kept himself stoic, silent in pain but loud at the same time. He said so much to her, probably only doing so because she was the only one that was around. But his words about Johnathan Taylor struck a cord within her. Past was past. But it still lingered in the present, as did the people that helped formed that past. Even if they were never central to your life in the first place when they were gone they lingered more. Like Thistle to her, Johnathan Taylor had been a small thing to her life, a background person until his death... It made him central to her now. She could still remember his smile, wide and missing a few teeth but lovely, his dirty paw reaching out to give her the weed that was his namesake, the weed that was in her pocket now. Face shy, but happy simply to see her... Clutching the teddy bear she had given to him. Yes... Central now thought Olivia.

"Let not those of yesterday be forgotten, and gone, but immortal within us." she said, starling Basil, who looked away from the fireplace to her.

His eyes were wide and his face was full of surprise. She simply smiled, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. Part of herself was about to be shared with the familiar stranger, just as he had shared with her.

"A little boy name Thistle was always there in the town next to my own. Sweet little one. I gave him a teddy bear one day simply because I never saw him with a toy, and the shop could make do without one. He always gave me a piece of thistle since, it was one of the last things he ever did before he died." she said softly, looking away.

Basil said nothing, and simply stared at the solemn creature before him.

"He wasn't someone that was... Close to me. But he was there, hovering within my sphere of existence. I never really paid him heed, or at least, not much heed, but when he died I was still sad. I will never forget his smiling face, nor ignore the pain of his death, especially for one so young. I care deeply for him yet, just as you do with Mister. Taylor. Just as we always will, just as we always should." she continued with a wise, quiet air.

"I-" Basil started to speak, but Olivia would have no such thing quite yet.

"Don't be afraid to mourn Basil. Mourning is what helps us accept what has happen, and allows us to keep those who are gone with us."

With that said Olivia stood, and looked down at the man that had inspired her to do so much. It was then, looking and his face, looking so young and even venerable in the firelight did it occur to Olivia that this man was only ten years older than her. In this light, he looked pleasant to her in a way that had never occurred to her before. She blinked at the implication in her mind. Even as a child she had thought him handsome, but suddenly in the dark parlor that knowledge took a different light all together. She wasn't a child any more, and in truth, Basil of Baker street, with his cunning and almost mad emerald eyes, and strong chin, and clever tilt to his brows was very handsome. Before she allowed her mind to go even further along these disrespectful lines, Olivia held out her paw to the man she had just called handsome within the confines of her mind.

He took her hand without hesitation, clasping it tightly and warmly. His emerald eyes locked with her's, and without her meaning, Olivia felt her heart suddenly thunder and suddenly her breathe felt impossible to past into her lungs. Basil himself felt trapped within the shadowed depths of Olivia's blue eyes. They looked down at him so honestly and so wide in the dim firelight. Olivia had turned into a near stranger in the course of her eight years absent, and yet so familiar beneath the years of maturity and growth. In some ways, she was still the child that had come into this very parlor room to seek help, but at the same time she was so different. Blinking, he stood slowly with her aid. He also slowly offered his arm, and she took it without a word.

Neither said a word as he escorted her to her room, and outside, she turned just as she the night before, standing on her tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek. It was warm and fleeting, somehow more important than the last.

"Goodnight Basil." she said it softly, turning and closing the door behind her.

Basil stared at the door for a moment, before he whispered out a good night as well. Olivia, leaning against the door heard him, and felt her heart thunder. What on earth, was happening to her?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I do not, and probably sadly will never own the Great Mouse Detective. Please share Disney?<strong>

**I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever, and that this chapter is so short! I got really stumped on who to write this one =/. And my other fics seem to be pilling up! Not to mention homework... Damn you classes! So, the number of chapters I have planned for this story is 52. That might change as I write a chapter, combine them together or separate them... I wanted to give you the heads up... Anyway, I hope you like this one, and don't hate me for writing so little... Please read and review, virtual cookie for whoever does!**

**Next chapter: Grace **


	13. Grace

**Grace**

Basil of Baker street woke as he always did, his mind whirling with dozens of thoughts at a time, jumping from tangent to tangent in a quick, flurrying rhythm that was nostalgic and easy as breathing. He woke slowly, trying to accustom his brain from the slow, waltz of sleep into the quick tango that was the awaken state. He sat up in his familiar comforter, eyes still closed as the analyzed everything in his mind quickly, sorting both text and imagery in quick succession to get something resembling order.

He crossed his legs where he sat, and breathed deep. Only when his chaotic mind was in some semblance of order, did his emerald eyes finally opened, slowly, waiting for the assault of sunlight. His pupils dilated at the morning, and he flinched at the sensation of the weak and beginning of the dawn light filtering through his dusty curtains. He smiled with slight amusement, knowing that Mrs. Judson would have his head if she ever saw such a sight. But, like the parlor, his bedroom was his own domain, and not many alive had seen it, other than himself that was.

But, at the same sight, as he stretched his arms above his neck, rolling it, he found that the dust added some semblance of a filter on the dawn light, anyway, and he preferred dirt to the over bright light in the morning. As he eased out of bed, glancing around the room with some semblance of a pity for the woman who had been with him since childhood, but still adamant that what he liked to call his organized chaos worked well enough for him, and would stay as long as his mind worked better with it.

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes as he always did, stretching his back muscles carefully. He gathered some clothing, his bathing necessities, and headed to the bathroom nearest to his room. The flat was still quiet he thought, bare feet padding on both hardwood and carpet on his daily journey.

It always was at this time which Basil could think the best about personal matters, Mrs. Judson herself would not wake until more dawn rays hit the somewhat dark sky he saw outside the few windows. And, as he suspected, his guest would not wake for more hours yet. It was a somewhat of his only alone time, and he relished it well enough, stepping down the familiar hall, opening the door to his bathroom.

He waited for the water, and slipped in with relish the second it was warm enough not to scald. His relaxed, not in a hurry to get himself clean, but instead intent on thinking. Tilting his head back, he looked to the ceiling knowing already the count of the tiles, as he had long since counted them, but feeling nostalgic enough to do it again.

Johnny had always teased him for such things, he thought fondly.

He had teased him for a great amount of things, really, as it was part of their strange friendship. It was so easy to remember him now, and he was such a giant clown, he had been the class clown back in college, and it had been ever to Basil ire that he was the punch-line of many of his pranks. He had had a good heart though, as large and somewhat thick-skulled as he had been, Johnny had been ever kind. Thinking of Johnny, made him of other things, and his mind went to his parents. He flinched slightly at the thought. His parents had been his world, and his best friends at the time of their deaths.

His calm, serious father who was always a rock in the household where his wife, and his son were eccentric geniuses who would drive most, including themselves, mad. With his dark eyes and slightly crooked smile he had been his role model, a detective himself. His mother... Well his mother had been on par with him, always on the same page and always there to understand with those emerald eyes, so much like his own staring out of her handsome face.

She had been his muse, mother, friend, and partner in crime all in one. She had been the smartest mouse he had ever known, and sometimes when he couldn't think or set the things right he would think of her and her thought process. Mostly, she would help put things into perspective, and he loved her all the more for it ... He snorted slightly, and hoped greatly that he had not turned into a sap from staying to much within the warm water.

"Mister Basil, good morning."called out his oldest friend.

He blinked away the sleepy effect the water had caused.

"Good morning Mrs. Judson."he responded, sitting up from his lounging position.

He finished quickly then, knowing that that good morning had been a waring for breakfast, and lamenting that he had spent to much time in the water. He felt a tad dizzy, though, he thought as he fixed his tie firmly, it could be just himself in general that was feeling off. He got dressed quickly, and looked in the mirror, it had been meant to be a fleeting glance while he fixed his hair, but something in his face caught his usually wondering attention.

It was strange, only eight years and the stress of those years had taken a toll, he thought. The lines beneath his eyes seemed to have become deeper, and become of that the darkness of the bruises seemed all the more prominent. He was, he knew, a vain man, and as he stared at his reflection, could not help but feel a twinge of remorse for all those nights he stayed awake, and all those nights that blended into mornings, and then to days, and then to nights once again. He snorted softly, pushing back his unkempt hair, vaguely reminding himself that he had to get it cut.

It seemed that always slipped his mind.

He shook his head, inspecting his eyes with care. Tired, was one of the adjective that he always use. Bright is another. It seemed as if that was always constant in his life, being tired, and being bright. He snorted slightly, adjusted his jacket and walked out the bathroom door. He felt off even with the cooler air outside the steamy bathroom. It was with this sense that Basil crashed headlong into someone much shorter than him, nearly knocking them to the floor and catching them around the waist before it could happen.

When blue met his emerald, he took a breathe, and quickly steadied the young girl and took a scrambling step backwards, feeling as though the limb that had caught her had been burned. He noted as the slightly flustered Olivia adjusted her lilac dress, that even after knowing that she was in his home that it was a surprise to the young lady there at all.

"Basil, Good morning."she said with a sweet smile, tucking a stray strand of her darker hair behind her ear.

"Morning Olivia." he said with a smile of his own appearing without his consent.

She smiled again, her lips twitching upwards in a quick movement.

"Mrs. Judson call on you as well?"she asked.

He nodded, another smile appearing on his lips.

"She makes for an excellent time piece."he said jokingly.

"She always knows when tea time is."she agreed in a serious tone, ruined by the upwards twitch of her lips. It was as if she was trying very hard not to smile for the sake of the joke, and it made him want to laugh all the more.

They walked in companionable silence to the dinning room, and greeted Mrs. Judson in turn. The meal that they had was relatively the same as yesterdays, simple and light. When it came to the spice sausages, they still fought though this time Basil managed to win it over Olivia's fork. The owner of said fork seemed mildly put out, but cheered up when Mrs. Judson gave her the last of the eggs. Basil himself sighed at his own antics with the younger mouse, fighting off a grin at the way he was acting. He hadn't acted like this with another person since John had decided to pester him the very first time in the library. He soon sobered up pretty quickly when he thought of John.

It seemed like a life time ago, he had first seen the tall, broad shoulder mouse, grinning at him with a crocked sort of grin, eyes bright and full of humor. He had seen those same eyes blank and gray, flat, and dead. He frowned, and pushed away the remainder of his breakfast away.

"Mr. Basil."came out the reprimanding tone of Mrs. Judson. It was her usual flustered tone, but at the same time it sounded so gentle that it soothed him immensely as it irritated him.

He knew that tone, that inflection. It was the same as the one she had first given him when his parents had died... Eleven years ago, oh, how the time had passed. He grimaced. It had been too little time since he had heard that tone. He had last heard it eight years ago when Ratigan had died. His fist clenched.

"Mrs. Judson, despite the wonderfully prepared food, I find myself absolutely without appetite."he said, firmly, in a tone that left room for no argument. When his oldest companion started to protest, he simply gave her a look.

It was a flat one, and it was one he ever rarely dare give to her. It was not a pleasant one. It was also one he loathed to give to the sweet woman. Her lips were pressed firmly in a straight line, and she sighed tiredly.

"Very well Mr. Basil."She said it grudgingly and she quickly set to clean the mess he had made with his dinnerware. Olivia's dark eyes, followed his every movement, missing nothing.

He quickly, and as politely as he could, excused himself from the table. Running from those dark eyes, or the disappointment in Mrs. Judson face, he was not sure... Perhaps from both. His first task was to play his violin, heart aching and a frown on his face. He did it with little joy. It wasn't about the pleasure that it brought him, even if there was plenty of that on any other day than today. It was a release, however, a way to express the emotions turning like a tempest within him.

"Do you always play when your upset?"

Basil jumped nearly a mile high... Or, well, he almost touched his ceiling at the very least. He turned to the sound of the slightly amused voice, and was somewhat surprised to see Olivia there. Mrs. Judson was never one to bother him when he was in his 'moods', and he half expected Olivia to follow on that principal... But at the same time, he felt as if he had forgotten her all together. He knew, logically, that she had been there all along, but since the girl had only really come a day before yesterday, he figured he had a little excuse to forget that she was going to be with him for a while.

"When the mood strikes me."he replied.

"Mostly it's a foul one I see."she said back, raising a brow.

"Not always."

She looked doubtful, and he found himself irritated at her disbelief.

"Then play something that's not tormented."

Her honest, and somewhat encouraging tone gave him slight pause, and he scowled.

"Why? What is there to be glad about?"

She frowned at his tone, and looked away. She couldn't deny he didn't have much to celebrate, and he sort of tired to will her to leave in his mind. She just stood there, instead, chewing on her lower lip will twisting her hands slightly as they came together. Then, as if a bolt of lightening hit her she jumped, eyes widening and something akin to victory coming into her expression. When she turned back with a triumphant grin, he questioned her sanity.

"The fact that you know your going to catch the monster that did this?"

Basil blinked, the bluntness of her words held little tack, and quiet frankly was brutally frank. But it made him smile, and he picked up the violin again. He played fierce and fast. It wasn't exactly elegant nor glad... But it was sound of victory and justice. When her voice joined the fray, wordless and loose, he almost stumbled in his playing. He was glad didn't. It was as if she was joining in with the sound of triumphant. Like a fellow solider or warrior celebrating the victory of a battle along his side.

Though without actual grand voice, Olivia sang with purpose and with a quiet sort of beauty that wasn't really one to go beyond the home. She wasn't a diva, far from it, but her voice held infliction and rawness that suited his wild violin. He played until his arms nearly fell off, and she sang until her voice began to grow hoarse. When it was all said and done she smiled at him, and tilted her head to the side in her curious habit.

"So how do you feel?"she asked, or really croaked at him.

Basil paused to examine himself. For a second, he wondered really what did he feel, and he was surprised at the answer.

"Better. Energized."he said, and smiled at the girl.

Her answering smile could light up the world.

He found himself wondering why he hadn't ever seen her for so long. It wasn't a sudden thought, it was one that like many things, took a step thought in his mind while more important things took a more central stage. But now it barreled its way in front of the other thoughts raging in his head.

Eight years had passed in a flash and he had never made any serious attempt to keep in contact with her. He had a pretty regular correspondence with Hiram, her father, but not her. Hiram only ever mentioned her in passing, and the only letter he had ever received from her was tucked away in a box that held all of his truly important things.

But the letter he himself had sent back had never been answered. The lack of communication was on both their parts, as he had never considered sending a letter simply to send a letter... He wasn't exactly the most regular person to write too... Most of his friends knew that if they did not send him a letter, he himself would forget and not make the first contact... But, well, they were both at fault he supposed, since she had never inclined to write again...What was he suppose to do now? What were they suppose to do with each other?

She was important to him, he could see that, but as what? He couldn't quite place where she would fit, even if she did fit into his small circle of what he felt was family. He didn't know where... He couldn't really give what she was, a comfortable title in which to settle her into. Basil wasn't the most organized of mice, he knew he was one of the least in fact, but mentally he had a name and place for everything. Even if said category really made sense to him, it was there nonetheless.

Her presence was just... Forward, no pretense nor mask in her unless she was working... Such a peculiar girl he thought, watching her as she watched him, a sort of stilling grace to the way she stood, hands relaxed at her sides. She always seemed to be noticeable, with the subtly of bull in a china shop, but silent and able to blend in well enough and walk quite enough that she could get the drop on him. He stepped forward, his violin placed offhandedly on the green armchair.

She must have stepped forward as well, because she was suddenly there, just in front of him. She was fairly small enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him, and her face was thoughtful as his must have been. Again, the fact that the young lady in front of him was a relative stranger was just so glaring at that moment. He saw glimpses of the little child of before, and it was obvious how much she had grown from that girl that had been so small in his arms a mere eight years before. But there was something so startlingly new about her, something that he couldn't quite place or put a name to.

She smiled, and he found himself smiling back. It wasn't as smile ether of them could identify, it could have been understanding or bliss, or a rueful smile of time lost, one of new beginnings or something else entirely. Or it could have been all of those together. But whatever smile it was, Basil tore his gaze away at the sound of the knock. She stepped back, or he did, he wasn't sure, and he went to the door, and opened it.

Hiram Noir stood on his doorstep, grimacing in the morning light. Basil blinked, any lingering haziness for what had just happened with Olivia gone in an instant.

"Mr. Basil."said the man in curt greeting, his head inclined the smallest amount. It was a wonder he had added the 'Mr' and it was obvious to Basil that it had been forced out.

He wondered why he had forced himself to do so.

"Officer Noir."he responded, just as curt. The man eyes narrowed and Basil found himself mirroring the action.

"Is Miss Flaversham here? I was told by the Doctor and Mrs. Dawson that she would be."asked the man, rather rudely in Basil's highly esteemed opinion. He had no right to sound so upset really.

This man did not like Basil, for a reason that Basil could not, nor cared to fathom. He did not like the man back for his rather lacking behavior and unprofessional. He was a hothead, and though a decent officer(as grudgingly he could admit that), nothing but idiotic and stubborn. They had caused many scenes of screaming matches on crime scenes and at Scotland Yard. But Basil was sheepish to admit the reason he allowed such a hatred to escalate so much was because he also found the young Officer's reactions the most hilarious thing on the planet.

"Good Morning, Officer Noir, how may I help you?."said Olivia, appearing at his elbow, a polite smile on her face.

"Yes, well, Good Morning."he said softly, a small smile twitching at his lips.

Basil frowned, and hoped that the young man wasn't about to ask anything discourteous. If he was here to flirt he would have to be drastic, and the door would be slammed in his face in about five seconds flat. The smile on the Officer's face was quick to die, and he took off his hat in a gesture of respect to Olivia. Basil found that his paws, gripping the door, tightened to the point where he felt that either the strong oak would break, or his hands would, and he tried to relax the automatic, and strange reaction.

"I came to inform you both, as I have informed your partner, Mr. Basil, that the unfortunate case of Mr. Taylor's murder will be handled solely by the police force. Your contribution to any of the investigation will be discipline, legally if need be."

Basil felt stunned.

His shock lasted all of two seconds before he felt fury enter him. It was hot and potent, ready to be released. Now, Basil was not a violent mouse. But he had never wanted nothing more than to reach over and punch the mouse directly in the face. To his surprise, before he could even make a move, it was Olivia who reacted first.

"What? Why?"she demanded, and he saw her paws clench into fists. Her arm jerked, and Basil could admit at that moment if she punched the man across the snout he would never would be happier.

The Officer drew himself up at her tone, and for a fraction of a second his eyes narrowed.

"Now Miss Flaversham, I understand that you might be upset, but due to the close personal connection of Mr. Basil, the chief has asked him to step down. He isn't partial." Though the majority of that had been directed at Olivia, the last part had been sneered out, and Officer Noir had directed it straight at him.

Basil stood straighter, his own eyes narrowing at the man in front of him. It wasn't hard to do what he did next, and though he was flattered by Olivia's spluttering rage beside him and her furious step forward, he took even more pleasure in guiding her back into the house by her waist, an action that made Officer Noir twitch, and promptly Basil smiled.

"Very well Officer, now kindly get the bloody hell off my property. Good day."he said pleasantly, and with that lovely message, slammed the door in his face as he had so desperately wished to do the second he had seen him so much as look at Olivia.

He glanced back to see a fuming young woman, and grinned as she scowled at the door.

"I do believe more music time is in order... That or we can lynch the young Officer to a pulp."he said conversely, placing his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the door.

Olivia let out a strangled laugh.

"Can we please go for option two?"

"As entertaining as that would be, no... After all blood stains are such a tiresome thing to take out, I find we have a better option."

"And what, pray tell, is that?"she asked, frustration in her voice.

He smiled, and he knew it to be fierce and defiant, and maybe even a little mad.

"We do the investigation anyway."

When she grinned up at him, a smile as lunatic and fierce as his must have been, Basil felt that she was just what he needed right now.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I do not, in anyway, shape, or form, own the Great Mouse Detective. It belongs to Disney and its various artists.<strong>

**I'M ALIVE! Or well, my time/interest for this story is. Now, its been nearly a year...(HOLY COW), and tada, this story is not forgotten! Just... Put to the side until now. I really have no excuse for not writing for this other than other things getting in the way, and my lack of want to write for this. I can't garuente when the next update is, but I do wish to say that it will be a shorter time than this chapter.**

**Any complaints, flames, or questions welcomed feel free to PM, I'll answer best I can.**

**Thank you so much for being invested in this story and for sticking to it for this long.**

**~Peace,**

**Moon Witch**


	14. Chapter 14

**Goodbye Taylor**

If there was one thing in the entirety of Mousedom that made Olivia Flaversham feel out place or uncomfortable, it was funerals. She hardly remembered her mother's, the funeral that had effected her most... She had been three when she had died. But she remembered the sort of helplessness she had felt at watching her father break down that way, and staring at her mother dressed in white, still and un-moving, her mouth parted softly, as if in sleep. The delicate beauty that had been passed unto her had been flat that day, dulled in comparison to the softness and warmth that Olivia faintly remembered...

She had felt so tiny, their next to her body and she had cried hard, not at the fact that her mother was dead(she hadn't understood death at the time), but at the stifling nature of the mourners around her. At the fact that her mother wouldn't move nor hold her as she had done so many times. Now, she had been to plenty of funerals, her father's side of the family in Scotland were elder by her father by many years, who he himself was not a young man, having married at forty and having had Olivia at near fifty. So she was no stranger to grief of others and of herself...

But the feeling of collected grief and stilling weight of everyone around her at those plentiful funerals of her relative always lingered... Never-mind funerals of a stranger. Somehow that made it all the worse, never knowing how to connect to a grief that she couldn't quite share properly with them. She could mourn a life lost, but it wasn't the same, or nearly as heartfelt as those who knew the victim. But, here she was getting ready for such a thing, adjusting her somber skirt and veil with a frown on her face and a sort of queasiness to her stomach. Give her the actual cadaver and she was fine!

But this? It was a surreal thing, and a sort of thing that put her on edge. She wasn't a stranger to the funerals of strangers either, but the thought of being there for a man she had never seen other than in death was a little more startling this time.

Something about the whole murder had her unsettled, from the gauges that had been in his neck to the careful dumping of the body... It was instinct, or paranoia, she wasn't sure, but it was as if she was on the edge of an enormous cliff, about to fall, as silly as that sounded. And she had no idea if she were to land on her feet or die upon her fall.

But she had promised herself to do this for the sake of Basil. He might never dare say it, but he needed the support today. He needed someone there. His friend, though by no estimation very close, had died and he had discovered his body. It was enough to affect anyone, even this eccentric, mad, lovely man, and she was by no means going to allow her greatest influence face this alone. He need someone there at least.

She didn't really know how much good she could do for him per say, but well, at least she could be there to ease him. She was better than nothing. Perhaps hold his hand as he had held her's in the carriage ride to Scotland yard. Olivia eyed herself in the mirror suddenly as she felt her heart skip a beat or two. She shook her head with a sigh, and tugged at the hem of her heavy skirt.

She hated this dress. The heaviness and the dark, stark color against her tan fur(lighter than in her youth).It wasn't question of aesthetics, because as dire as it was she looked rather fine in it, she hated wearing it, she hated the feelings it brought...

All around, Olivia hated death. Death seemed to haunt her footsteps, she had been forced in the murder division to test her determination, her grit and her seriousness of her chosen profession. She had seen too much of it in her short life, all of the horrors and blood and carnage of it. She accepted it, but it didn't mean that she could like it in any shape or form.

"Olivia, dear, are you almost done?"asked Mrs. Judson, startling her. Her voice sounded muffled by the door, however, the concern wasn't masked by the poorer sound.

Olivia looked at her face one last time, and adjusted her shawl around her shoulders.

"Yes Ma'am I'll be right out."she responded, and looked away from the mirror, trying to fool herself into thinking that she was not wearing her funeral dress. If she ignored the feel of it, and if she did not look at her hands, she could almost do it.

Almost.

She shook herself, and quietly moved to the parlor. Basil was already there, for once not scrambling to get ready, his long hair pushed back neatly, no strand of fur or wrinkled sleeve in sight. It was a faintly concerning sight. She had never seen him look so polished, vain as he was sometimes. Dressed in all black, he had never looked more his age, instead of that timeless, end changing appearance she was so use to. At eighteen he had already seemed ancient to her, surly like her father! Only eight years ago, she had thought him that, never changing, always the same, and now she had to say that he looked only twenty-six, and imposing because of it. She titled her head to the side, and watched as he eyed his violin.

"You could play...We have just a enough time for a quick song."she said, and was surprised when he jumped. He turned and gave her a somewhat sad smile.

"Young lady, if I were to start, I don't think I would stop until my arms would fall out of their sockets."he said it simply and honestly, and Olivia tilted her head down in response, demurring at his words.

They didn't speak, instead choosing to sit quietly, Olivia sat in the green arm chair, giving Basil his red chair in a show a empathy that felt weak at best. They didn't say a word, and they both lamented the untouched tea and small cakes in front of them. Neither could bring themselves to touch the food, and Olivia herself felt her stomach wrench at the mere thought. Pity at the waste though...

She wanted to say something, but anything that occurred to her felt inadequate, or simply silly. Last night it had seemed so easy in the wake of shadows and the dying firelight. Now, in the light of day her tongue felt like lead, heavy and too clumsily to even try to use. Her paws twisted in her lap, her eyes flickering from her boots to the still man in front of her.

Basil's eyes were focused on the empty fireplace, green eyes far away and glazed. His posture was introverted, shoulders hunched and hand over his mouth. His brow was furrowed, and she had never seen the man so still. It was another facet of the man she hardly knew, and she was fascinated and sadden by this Basil... But then again, Olivia found it hard not to find fascination on any forms of Basil. Each expression, and newly discovered face of the man had her waiting on a bated breathe, constantly trying to discover and flesh out more forms of him...

It didn't take long for the Dawsons to appear on Basil's doorstep, their expressions sober, and for Genevieve, more than a little pale. She was supported by her husband, knuckles stark white against the crook of his elbow. Olivia felt concern for the woman, and held back Basil when he made a move to get in the carriage first. He glanced at how she grabbed at the edge of his jacket, raised a brow and didn't move a muscle. She tried for a smile, but shook her head instead. He nodded, and held out his hand, not really sure why, Olivia hesitated, and then shook herself to accept his offer to help her into the carriage.

His paw was warm, surprisingly rough, throwing her off guard for a second, for she had expected them to be soft, for Basil was of a higher status than most, the fact that he had rough hands implied hard labor. The roughness and hardness of his hands made her flush slightly, and oddly she found that she liked the feel of his hands... She found this a good thing, and squeezed his hand for a second before she sat next to him within the carriage.

The ride to the funeral was tense and silent, but the warmth of Basil's hand was steady and constant. She did not look at him, and Genevieve and Dawson simply clutched at each other, the former rather boldly laying her head on her husband's shoulder, looking pale and drained. Olivia did not blame her, if she had not been accustomed to such a sight, and if she were more bold, she most likely would be leaning heavily on Basil. Olivia contented herself with his paw instead, feeling rather bold even with that, and listened for the steady clip-clop of the horse's hooves, lulling and easing her nerves as they rode around London, rain falling as if the sky was weeping in earnest.

Dreadfully appropriate on the day of a funeral, she thought as she looked at the black, turning sky. It was dark and dreary(though when it wasn't like that in London was a rare sight), and perfect for the ill, heavy atmosphere of mourning... She shivered in the slight wind brought by the carriage's smooth, slightly jumping gait, and tightened her grip on Basil's hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him jolt around his shoulder's, and turn his gaze to her. She focused her eyes ahead, not looking at him, breathing calmly and easily as she could in the wake of his intense gaze.

He had such a heavy pair of eyes she thought. At everything he looked he seemed to add to their mass, place a heaviness and intentness that was hard to be around. It was a rare thing that she had only ever seen with him. She could still feel them on her even as the carriage came to a slow stop, and only felt him look away when she slipped her hand out of his, rushing to steady Guinevere as she stumbled in their jump off the carriage. Doctor Dawson gave out a small noise in his throat, and touched his wife softly at the waist when Olivia had finished steadying her.

"Guinevere, you seem a little unwell, perhaps its best if we got you home... Olivia, would you mind terr-"he began, but the woman gave a soft huff.

"And let you go through this alone? Honestly David, you worry me with your silliness."she said with a snort, squeezing her husband's arm.

Olivia, despite her foul mood, could not help but smile at the exchange. It was strange really, she had never been with a married couple extensively in her short life. The exchange, unreserved and free between Guinevere and the good Doctor was startlingly lovely and new. She watched they way they moved together, complete opposites, yet so in sync that it was... Wonderful. She sighed slightly without a cause, and glanced at Basil.

He too was watching the married couple with an unreadable gaze, only, he, unlike Olivia was seeing not an odd, new thing... But rather an echo of something of before. If he squinted, instead of Dawson's gentle face, he saw his father's stern, practical one. He saw his mother's wild, manic green eyes with mirth and mischief in her dainty mouth. Despite himself, Basil found himself smiling at the echo of them.

When he felt a gaze on him, he turned to Olivia. They didn't speak, only allowed for green and deep blue to lock and remained like that for an uncountable amount of time. Neither wanted to look away first, so they did it at the same time with a silent signal that neither quite understood. That neither quite knew how they had come up with it in the first place.

They walked. The air was silent, and again the mournful stillness of what they were headed too settled over them like a cloud, pushing back the lightness of the married couple's exchange. They did not speak, even when they reached the house of mourning. The only sound were their footsteps against the stones of the floor, the pitter patter of the rain against the same stones. They echoed heavily, and their hearts grew heavier with each sound that rang out in their ears.

The door opened, and a soft, unassuming woman opened the door, heavy circles underneath her brilliant clear blue eyes. She was pale and thin, lips tight and seemingly the only thing that prevented her from screaming. Two little boys clung to her heavy black skirt, and even through the veil she wore, Olivia could see the tension of her face.

"Hello, Basil."she said, and despite her appearance, her voice came out smooth, warm, and full of welcome.

Basil gave a small smile, and extended his hand to grasp the woman's.

"Hello, Anna. And to the little Taylor lads as well."he said, was very gently spoken, not a hint of manic nor spirit that Olivia had come to see in him so often. He was quiet, subdued and was incredibly stark against his normal demeanor.

"Thank you... For everything."said the woman after a beat of the two little boys running up to give Basil's leg a good hug.

She pulled them back gently, but firmly. Basil gave her a grateful nod, tugging at the seam of his trousers.

"None of that boys. Basil has come to show his respect."

Olivia stepped forward, and smiled timidly at the exhausted woman.

"Hello ma'am, my name is Olivia Flaversham, I'm incredibly sorry to intrude-"she began, before Anna stepped forward herself and embraced her. Flustered, Olivia could only embrace her back.

"Thank you for finding him."she whispered, and Olivia felt her heart constrict at the break that came to the woman's voice.

"I wish we could meet under better circumstances."she said back softly, and eased back out of the older woman's arms. She smiled at her, past the grief on etched into her plain features, and squeezed her hands.

She stepped back and took Basil's arm, and smiled sadly at the woman as she took a deep breathe through her nose and steadied herself

"You as well, my dear. I'm sure Jo-John- Johnny would have loved to have met Basil's... Erm, well..."she said, and she simply gestured to their linked arms.

Olivia blinked.

"Basil's what?"she asked, confused.

Basil stared blankly at Anna, and Olivia shot him a look at the suddenly flustered look on the older woman's face.

"Your what?Guest?"she asked him, and she received a confused glance in return.

Anna looked at them for a second, and her eyes grew wide. She could see the way they touched, the way they leaned on each other... That they were at least half in love with each other as it was. And all she got in return was blank looks and confusion. Despite everything, she felt as if the spirit of her idiotic, trickster of husband was near her as she looked at them. And he was raving, laughing arse over tea-kettle at the moment.

"Oh, so you don't... Oh... My..."and then Anna burst out laughing, bending over with the force of her laughter.

"So, you see it too, Mrs. Taylor?"asked Guinevere, and she was smirking slightly.

Anna couldn't seem to catch her breathe:

"G-G-Greatest.. det-det—detective... In all... Of Mouse... Mousedom and he has... Hasn't figured... figured out what took me... S-Seconds."she wheezed out, and Guinevere laughed her head off with the widow.

"She's pretty sharp as well. But, you know, seems that detectives are the same... Thick."she said pleasantly.

The two woman smirked at each other, as the two detectives simply looked at each other in confusion. they felt as if they had been insulted somehow, yet couldn't find how they had been insulted. However, with the new widow finding it in her to laugh, they endured it without question. Anything to ease her, even at their expense. Then, quietly, the widow sighed sadly.

"Oh, that is _rich_. Johnny would have been raving over this."she said after a moment, and she was looking at her hands in a sad, sad manner.

Both Olivia's and Basil's grip tightened on each other.

"Come on, inside all of you, you too Doctor Dawson, Mrs. Dawson."she said after another moment, and she was smiling.

It wasn't a strong smile in any sense. But when Anna smiled, Olivia saw a brightness that made the plain woman quite beautiful, even in her grief. They followed the woman, who seemed to have a slight spring with a wake of whatever she had found so hilarious, and her little boys trailed behind her faithfully like a pair of ducklings following their mother. Basil's lips were pinched as he made his way forward, giving his respects to the coffin. It was nailed shut, Olivia noticed, and she pushed away the images of scarlet and what had been left of the man... Inside...

"Hello, Johnny."started Basil, he was quiet, and not manic in any sense.

The tone of his voice made Olivia still, and she found her gaze locked on the usually animated man. He was still, seemingly frozen in place. And she felt more than saw the tension in his form, for even as he held his hat his grip was loose and relax. His shoulders were not stiff, nor was his stance, but he was still hardly moving. His paw, was the only thing that moved. He carefully placed it on the coffin.

"I'm sorry I never did write back to you. I would have loved to join you and Anna for a day by the lake. Bit late I suppose to respond. But I felt like you should know. I will find the person that did this too you. I swear upon your, and my parent's grave. I will find them."he whispered the last part, quickly, voice grave and trembling. Not with fright, but with anger.

And Olivia saw it, the intense, seething anger that came with his promise. She smiled unconsciously, because that was something she had yet to see in the man. Anger that she vowed she would help quell. Because she would help him to the best of her ability, and she would find that monster that dared to hurt the man that had inspired so much in her.

She came to stand next to him, placing her hand over his on the coffin, and though she felt it not exactly her place, she vowed to the man that had once lived and loved in the vessel bellow her that she would help find his murdered. She vowed and promised that his widow and two sons would know peace. And she vowed that this good-bye to the man name Johnathan Taylor would not be the last impression of those that had loved him, dearly or not.

Because those that had held him dear deserved much more.

"Goodbye old friend."said Basil, and she tightened her grip on his hand.

"Goodbye."she said softly.


End file.
